


Ride On

by SoulSurvivor_36



Series: The Lives We Make for Ourselves [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child peril, Dream Sex, F/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7857361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSurvivor_36/pseuds/SoulSurvivor_36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has left Delilah and has left Sam behind to hunt down Gadreel.  Will she open up to Sam about her past and what happened with the angels?  Will she accept his offered friendship?  Can she learn to trust? Or will she leave the Winchesters behind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 - The Bunker, KS

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up after S9E10 - Road Trip and goes to the end of S9E12 - Sharp Teeth.
> 
> I borrowed dialogue again for authenticity's sake and intergrated Delilah into it. Although Sam's presence in New Mexico prior to 9.12 is canon, the hunt is my own. I based myself on S3E02 - The Kids Are Alright for the lore.
> 
> There may be spoilers, depending on what you consider a spoiler, but mostly they're character development, since Sharp Teeth is a monster of the week episode.
> 
> The title and lyrics come from AC/DC, here's a link to a YouTube video if you want to listen to it. https://youtu.be/AEX2u5q7J7o
> 
> The Rape/Non-Con and Underage tags are there but they refer to the character's past and not described in great detail.

_It's another lonely evening_

_And another lonely town_

_But I ain't too young to worry_

_And I ain't too old to cry_

_When a woman gets me down_

_Got another empty bottle_

_And another empty bed_

_Ain't too young to admit it_

_And I'm not too old to lie_

_I'm just another empty head_

_That's why I'm lonely_

_I'm so lonely_

 

She nearly left a hundred times, opening the outside door and staring out at the deserted road, then turning right around and going back inside. She paced and sat and read and stared into space and then all over again trying to decide what she would do, where she would go.  The first night was the hardest.  When the lights dimmed in the library as she held a staring contest with the floor, she figured she should go to bed, everything would be better in the morning… Only that hadn’t quite worked out that morning, not at all.

She went through the motions, getting ready for bed: brushing her teeth and her long brown hair, removing her excess clothes – sleeping in just her underwear and his t-shirt.  She had crawled under the blankets and rested her head on the pillow.  She had even closed her eyes.  But it was no use.  Images and voices were tormenting her, keeping her from her sleep:

_“My turn,” whispered Adriel in her ear in her sing song voice._

_Her father saying, “Daddy loves you baby girl,” as she sat in some man’s lap, his hand down her pants._

_The twisted remains of her mother, hanging limply from her seatbelt._

_“Everyone has a breaking point,” Malachi laughed at her._

_Kevin, lying on the floor, dead, then his body consumed by flames._

_“I can’t do this with you, Lilah.”_

_Crowley, “… tragedy threw you into the arms of the Winchesters.”  “Good for a poke every now and then.”_

_“I’m poison.”_

_Those green eyes holding all that pain._

When it was clear that she would not be getting any rest, she got up and started wandering the dimly lit halls of the bunker again, like a lost spirit.  She paused in front of door 11, not daring to go inside.  She did not want to go to the garage either, not wanting to see the empty spot where her refuge once was parked.

She wandered to the other side of the bunker, avoiding the storerooms’ hallway.  She came upon a door that was left ajar, like someone was too rushed to close it properly.  She pushed open door 18 and flicked up the light switch.  She took a deep breath as she realized that this was Kevin’s room.  She stood and stared at the sheets pushed to the end of the bed and hanging off, clothes strewn on the floor like a dorm room.  Some papers were spread out on the little desk to her right and she shook her head at the kid’s inability to stop working on the angel tablet.  But Kevin was dead.  He wouldn’t be working anymore.  She hoped he was finally content up in Heaven.

She turned off the light and closed the door, leaning her forehead against the wood, taking deep breaths.  She continued down the hall and opened the next door.  This was clearly Sam’s room.  She looked around at the bare walls and file boxes lining the floor around the bed, another workaholic.  The room was much the same as every other room in the bunker: bed, desk, chair, dresser, sink, mirror.  But Sam’s room had what no other room so far had… a television.

Delilah walked in, keeping the lighting dim with just the desk lamp.  On the bedside table, she found the remote.  She sank onto Sam’s bed, turning on the flat screen, and letting the numbing powers of Netflix cure her wandering mind… at least for a little while.  Tomorrow, she would go.  Everything would be better in the morning.

 

_The golden light in the field glowed off of every surface, like the world was made out of gold.  Above, the sky was a robin’s egg blue, a perfect day.  There was carefree laughter in the distance, a child giggling in innocence.  A gentle breeze ruffled the long golden stocks of the late summer grasses, whispering sweet nothings in the air.  A feeling of contentment filled her heart and a careful smile attempted to form on her lips.  Suddenly, the sky tore open with a ripping sound she felt down into her guts, and the fields turned to cold, hard cement as the tears fell from the sky staining the ground around her red.  She raised her hands to her face as the downpour continued, and she saw them dripping in blood.  She glanced down at her feet, where his body lay, lifeless and bloody.  She stared and stared, silently begging the green eyes to open one more time.  Eyelids fluttered, lashes rising from wet cheeks, horror infusing her soul as the smooth black opal eyes stared back at her._

She startled awake as the remnants of her dream drifted away and she was left with dread sitting in the pit of her stomach.  Delilah swung her legs over the side, hitting the power button on the remote, turning off the television.  She put her face in her hands, trying to rub the heavy exhaustion from her eyes.  She walked over to the sink and took a long drink, avoiding the face in the mirror, not wanting to see the fear, the pain, the hopelessness or anything else that might be in her own eyes… best to continue feeling numb.

She left Sam’s room and made her way to the shower room.  She stood under the hot water a long time, letting it soak into her hair and down her body to the grate in the floor.  She imagined the water running out with all her thoughts and all the whispered memories.  She thought about what a relief it would be.  But it was just water.  She turned off the tap, still numb, and twisted the water out of her hair, then grabbed a towel to wrap around herself.

She headed back to her room and walked over to the dresser.  Nothing.  Laundry day, Delilah supposed, but then again when all you have is the clothes you walked in with, laundry day is almost every day.  She gathered her small armload of clothes and dumped it in the washing machine in the laundry room.

She figured she should eat, so she headed towards the kitchen, shivering in her damp towel.  As she passed the hallway to her room, she stopped, looking at door 11.  “Fuck it,” she said to the walls.  She walked into Dean’s room and straight up to his dresser.  She pulled out the first shirt she put her hands on, a soft, grey plaid pattern with a red stripe in it.  She passed her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up, the bottom falling to the middle of her thighs like a dress.  She opened another drawer and found a thick pair of socks.  She slipped them onto her feet, fighting with the over long sleeves, which she rolled to her elbows, and then she left.

She detoured long enough to add the towel to the load of laundry then continued her way to the kitchen.  She had to do something about her lack of attire.  Like hell was she going to keep pilfering Dean’s shirts… Even if they did smell like heaven.  That would mean leaving.  Maybe heading back to Cedar Rapids, see if she couldn’t get her stuff back.  How long’s it been since they heard from her?  She wondered if her credit card maxed out yet from the room charge.  She wondered but didn’t care, how could she care about anything at this point?

She started the coffee maker and scoured the cupboards for food.  She found a box of Pop-tarts.  “Boys,” she whispered to the box, shaking her head. She tore into the foil wrapping, nibbling at the edges while she watched the coffee drip into the pot.  Did she even want coffee?

She felt so lost, she didn’t know what she wanted, or what to do, and her pattern from the previous day took over: pace, sit, stare, read.  Stare, switch laundry to dryer, pace, read, sit.  Pace, fold pants, socks, undies and shirt, stare, throw book, collapse into a corner.  Drink.

After she found the whiskey, the day was mostly a blur.  She nearly left another hundred times, but she always held back, what if they came back?  She couldn’t just leave with the key.  What if they never returned?  She couldn’t just leave the place unlocked with access for all.  “Who the fuck doesn’t have a spare fucking key anyhow?” she yelled at the black iron key, still sitting on the lit up map of the world.

When the lights dimmed again, Delilah found herself sitting at the far table in the library, her knees to her chest, staring at an empty bottle of whiskey and Kevin’s papers all over the floor.  Like a zombie, she got up, went out the back door, walked into room 21, turned the TV back on and passed out.

 

When the lights suddenly turned on in the room, Delilah was disoriented, her eyes blurry and dry and her head pounding from the alcohol.  She sat up quickly though, when she realized someone was standing in the doorway.  Her heart started slamming against her ribs and she jumped out of bed, looking around her for a weapon, a way out, anything that would save her from the 6’5” giant, staring at her frowning.  She took a step back, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and Kevin’s killer, and tripped over a box on the floor, falling backwards onto her ass.  The long haired man took a few steps towards her, extending his arms and she screamed, “Get away from me!” as she backed up against the wall.

Sam stopped suddenly, a pained look twisting his face; his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed into a straight line, his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth.

From behind him, a black haired man wearing a trench coat stepped into the room.  “Castiel,” Delilah said, confused as she looked back and forth between angel and man.  He walked around Sam and came to crouch near Delilah on the floor.

“It’s alright.  Sam expelled the angel possessing him,” he told her in his deep gravelly voice.

Delilah stood up, with the help of Castiel, and she looked over at Sam again.  There was sadness in his eyes as his shoulders slumped and he looked down at the floor.  Delilah walked over to him, relieved he was back and worried about who else might be back, and wrapped her arms around his torso, holding him tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” she told him.  She felt him sway as he put his arms around her.  She pulled back and looked at him, his eyes were half closed, and his face had gone pale.  “Sam!  What’s wrong?” she asked, as he took a step to the side, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, still holding on to Delilah with one arm.  She pulled out from under him as Castiel walked over to them.

“He’s still not completely healed.  When Gadreel left, Sam was weakened,” Castiel explained.

“I’m fine,” Sam said, “It’s really not that bad.  I just need some sleep.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, raising his hand to Sam’s forehead, touching him with his extended fingers.  Sam’s eyes rolled and he fell backwards onto the mattress, falling like dead weight.  Delilah sat down, panicked, and took Sam’s face in her hands.

“Sam!” She looked back at the trench coat wearing angel, “What did you do to him?” she asked angrily.

“I put him in a dreamless sleep.  He’ll rest more easily that way.”

Delilah looked at him, surprised, “You can do that?”

“There are a lot of things angels do that are good.  We don’t all torture and kill.”  There was a note of anger in his voice and Delilah felt ashamed.

“Of course.  I’m sorry Cas, I didn’t mean it that way.”

She looked back at Sam’s face, looking peaceful in his deep sleep and she was envious.  God knows she could use a good sleep, but she’d had too much experience having her head screwed with by angels lately to let Castiel do it to her too.  She stood up from the bed and tried turning Sam’s body so he’d be more comfortable, but the man weighed a ton.  Castiel touched her shoulder, making her flinch involuntarily, as he pushed her gently aside.  He bent down and picked Sam up like an overgrown, feather-light child and set him down again on the bed, his head on the pillow.

“Jesus, wouldn’ve thought it to look at you.  You’re hiding quite the super strength under that coat,” Delilah said, squeezing Castiel’s bicep, then pulling back quickly.

Castiel frowned at her, giving her a puzzled look, “An angel’s strength is unrelated to the physical appearance of its vessel.”

“Oh! Well then.  Good to know.”  Delilah looked back down at Sam, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.

“This is completely unrealistic,” Castiel suddenly exclaimed, “Dragons don’t frolic around like puppies.  And they certainly don’t let humans ride them.”

Delilah turned to look at him, confused.  What the hell was he going on about?  He was staring at the television that was still playing Netflix, it must have started the next movie on its own.

“It’s a kids’ movie Cas.”

“Well, they certainly shouldn’t be showing this to children.  Dragons are dangerous.”

“Right!”  Delilah hit the button on the remote and turned off the offending cartoon.  “We should probably get out of here, let Sam sleep.”

She turned off the light and walked out into the hallway, the angel following her all the way to the main hall.  She looked down at the key still sitting on the lit up table, and she forced herself to ask the question that was lurking in her gut.

“Did Dean come back with you?”

“No,” answered Castiel, dissipating the anxiety in Delilah, “He told Sam he was going to hunt Gadreel alone.”

Delilah nodded to the table, leaning on the back of a chair.  So he really was gone then.

“Who is Gadreel?  I thought the angel possessing Sam was called Ezekiel.”  She turned around and leaned up against the table edge.

“That was a lie, Gadreel is a disgraced angel.  He was locked up in Heaven since the dawn of man.  He was released in the fall, like all the angels who were in Heaven at the time.  He lied so he wouldn’t be recognized for the traitor that he is.”

Delilah raised her eyebrows in surprise at the sharpness of Castiel’s tone.  He was angry.  “You said he was disgraced, what did he do to warrant eternity in jail?”

Castiel’s blue eyes pierced her with their intensity. “He was the one who let the snake, Lucifer, into the garden of Eden, causing the Fall of Man.”

Delilah took a deep breath, “Wow, a fucking celebrity.” She rolled that idea around in her head for a while, the Garden, the Fall… was everything in the Bible true then?  She should really have a look through it.  She looked up at the angel who was now staring off to the side in silent contemplation of… whatever angels silently contemplated.  “You said Sam was hurt.  Is he going to be ok?” she asked him, concerned.

He shifted his gaze back to her, those blue eyes making her hair rise up, it really was disconcerting. “I should be able to heal him completely, he should be well again soon.”

“Good.”  Delilah pushed off from the table and turned around heading for the kitchen hallway.  “I’m off to bed then.  A girl needs her beauty sleep.”

“Would you like help with that?”

Delilah frowned at Castiel, looking incredulous, “What now?”

“I assume that your time with Malachi was as unpleasant as mine.  I can help you.”

She walked over to him, feeling her throat tighten involuntarily as she stood close, getting into his space, straightening to her fullest height, which wasn’t all that tall really.  She looked him in the eye as she spoke, “My demons, are mine to fight.  I don’t need _angels_ poking around, making a mess any more than they already did.  So, no thanks.  Keep the angel juice for someone who needs it.”

To her surprise, Castiel’s face broke into the first smile she ever saw the angel give.  It was crooked and sweet and one of the most honest expressions of delight she ever saw on someone’s face.  She took a step back and frowned.  “What?”

“I can see why Dean likes you.  You’re very alike in many ways,” he told her.

“Yeah? Well whoopdee-freakin’-doo.  The bastard can go fuck himself.” She answered angrily.

Castiel’s smile faded and he looked perplexed again, “Dean’s not a bastard, his parents we…”

“Oh God.  You’re giving me a headache,” she said, turning away from the frustrating angel. “I’m going to bed.  Do NOT follow me or I’ll stab you with an angel blade.”

She stalked off back to her room, closing the door behind her.  She threw herself onto the bed, laying on her stomach and wrapping her arms under the pillow.  She stared at the headboard, her thoughts clear.  She knew what she would do.  Come morning she would leave.  She didn’t need to stay put anymore, Sam was back.  She would head up to Cedar Rapids and get her stuff, and then… what else?  She would hunt.  Calm finally wrapped itself around her like a comforting blanket, and her mind was quiet for the first time in a long time.  Purpose.  That’s what keeps the demons at bay.  Delilah closed her eyes and fell asleep.

 

She woke to screams – gut wrenching, painful, tortured screams.  It took her a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t her screaming, and that they weren’t in her head at all.  “Sam!” Delilah said, jumping out of bed and grabbing the angel blade from the top of her dresser.

She ran out of her room and listened again, following the sounds down the hallway to the stairs.  The noises were getting weaker, like Sam was running out of time.  She went up the stairs two at a time, on silent socked feet, and ran through the open door at the top.

Her eyes quickly surveyed the room, locking on the trench-coated back in front of her, bending down over Sam’s prone body.  She couldn’t see what he was doing, but the blood, pooling under Sam’s nose as his eyes struggled to stay open was enough for her to act.  She charged at the angel, holding the blade, ready to sink it deeply into his flesh.

Castiel turned suddenly and grabbed her wrist, just as she was about to stab him.  He held her with a grip like iron and she fought back, trying to wrench herself and the blade free as he fixed her with his intense glare.

“Delilah, no.  Stop,” Sam said weakly from where he lay on something like a cross between a dentist’s chair and a doctor’s examination table.

She stared as she saw the antique looking hypodermic needle held by Castiel and jammed into Sam’s neck, and the white glow radiating from the chamber.

“What’s going on here?  What’re you doing to him?”

“Just let him finish, Delilah,” Sam gasped out.

She took a step away, Castiel letting go of her wrist, and moved to stand on Sam’s other side.  Castiel brought his hand to the plunger and pulled back slowly.  The tendons in Sam’s neck became tense as he clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.  Blood ran down from the corner of his eye and Delilah dropped the angel blade with a clatter, grabbing hold of his hand in both of hers as he opened his mouth and screamed.

Delilah stared at his face and she cried out “Stop it, stop!  You’re killing him!”

Castiel stopped pulling on the needle’s plunger and Sam’s eyes rolled as his eyelids fluttered, but then they focused on Delilah with half closed lids, his breathing shallow.  She squeezed his hand and he barely squeezed back.

Castiel spoke, “Hold on.  This may pinch.” The angel put his fingers to Sam’s neck and slowly pulled the needle free.

Sam tried to sit up, “Cas,” he said weakly, “What the hell?”

Castiel put his fingers to Sam’s forehead, forcing him back against the head rest.  A bright light burst from the angel’s fingers as Sam arched his back, his mouth open in a silent scream.  Delilah let go of his hand and took a step away as he fell back against the table panting.  He put a hand to his throat and sat up quickly, staring at Castiel confused.

“What the hell was that?” he said, his voice back to its normal strength.

“I’ve healed your wounds, completely,” he answered, stoic as ever.

Sam glanced back at Delilah, as she moved around the end of the table and came to stand beside him.  He turned back to Castiel, “And the grace?”

“Well, whatever grace was inside you is gone now,” he said turning away to put the glowing needle down in its container, “What’s left of Gadreel is in here.”

Delilah’s brain was playing catch up again, “Are you saying, that the glowy stuff is a bit of Gadreel?”

Sam looked at her again and nodded, “Turns out, he left some of his grace behind when he jumped ships.  We found a spell that can locate an angel if you have enough of it.”

“We’ll just have to try the spell with what we have,” said Castiel turning back towards them.

Sam’s shoulders slouched forward, “Damn it.”

“I’m sorry Sam,” Delilah started but Castiel interrupted her.

“No,” he said, “I had to stop.” He turned towards Sam, still sitting on the inclined table, staring at the floor, “Sam, I want Gadreel to pay as much as you do.  But nothing is worth losing you.”  Sam looked up at him, “You know, being human, changed my view on a lot of things – food, sleep, life, you.”  Sam frowned at him slightly but didn’t say anything.  Castiel continued, “I mean, I can relate now to how you feel.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam said.  Delilah sat back beside him on the edge of the chair, entranced by what Castiel was saying.  Listening to Sam and Castiel talking, Delilah realized again how she had been parachuted into their midst, and just like her, these people she was now surrounded with came with their own baggage: she knew so far that Dean had gone to Hell and been saved by Castiel, she knew both brothers had tried to quit being hunters and couldn’t, she knew they had lost their mother and had been raised by their father as hunters, they had tried to close the gates of Hell which almost killed Sam and led Dean to have him possessed by Gadreel in order to save his life… So much and yet she felt like she had barely scratched the surface.  And Castiel she knew even less about: he was an angel, he became human when Metatron used his grace to expel the angels from Heaven, he had been captured and tortured by the same group of angels who had taken her, and now he was an angel again (somehow).  Given her recent encounter with angels, the only reason she had to trust him, was that Sam trusted him.  He had a slight smile on his face as he went on.

“The only person who has screwed things up more consistently than you, is me.  And now I know what that guilt feels like.”  Sam hung his head, going back to staring at the floor. “And I know what it means to feel sorry, Sam.”  Castiel’s face filled with sorrow. “I am sorry.”

“I know,” Sam said, looking up at him.

Castiel paused, nodding slightly, “You know,” he went on, “Old me… I would’ve just kept going.  I would’ve jammed that needle in deeper until you died, because the ends, always justified the means.”  Sam looked down, pursing his lips, and the angel’s expression softened as he went on, “But what I went through, the things I experienced as a human, taught me that angels can change, so…” He turned and picked up the box containing Gadreel’s grace and turned back to face them, “who knows?  Maybe Winchesters can too.”

Delilah could swear that he flicked his gaze her way, for the first time in his whole speech.  She blinked and he was back to staring at Sam.  He walked away then, leaving Sam and Delilah sitting stunned and deep in thought inches from each other and yet miles apart.

Delilah pushed off from the table, her arms crossed.  She stared at the floor as she walked back around the table and picked up her angel blade.

“I’m leaving Sam,” she said quickly, like taking off a Bandaid.

“What?” Sam stood up and turned to look at her. “Why?”

Delilah held the blade in her hands, picking at the tip with her nail.  “I can’t stay here.  I’m losing my mind.  I need to get back on the road, get moving again.  I need to move forward,” she finished, staring at the floor, the blade held loosely in her right hand.

“Is this about my brother?” he asked her.  Delilah looked up at him staring down at her.

“No.  This is about me,” she said, “I don’t know how to explain.  And you probably wouldn’t understand.”  Sam kept looking at her.

“You could try me.”

She looked away, noticing her surroundings for the first time, it seemed they were in an infirmary of sorts, with beds lining one wall and cabinets with glass panels along the other.  She turned back and looked at him again.  He looked hopeful, trustworthy, good, but then… No.  She wasn’t going to get burned again.  She walked past Sam heading for the door and the stairs.

“Where will you go?” he asked her.

“I gotta get my stuff back, so I guess I’ll start with Cedar Rapids.”

“And how’re you getting there?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’ll hitch a ride.  Plenty of good people out there.”

His jaw twitched. “Lots of bad ones too.  What about the angels?  They’re still looking for Castiel, they might want you too.  You leave here and they’ll find you.”

Delilah grinned without humour, putting a hand to her ribs, “Castiel warded me.”  Sam looked surprised.  She went on, “Besides, I’ve got my new best friend here.” she raised the angel blade and watched the light bounce off it. “So I think I’ll be ok.  The angels have bigger fish to fry.”

She started walking down the stairs.  Sam overtook her before she reached the bottom and he stood two steps down blocking her way.

“Let me drive you at least.”  He looked so earnest.

Delilah reached forward and tucked a loose strand back with the rest of his hair, “No Sam, you’ve got your own shit to deal with.  I won’t let you put your search for Gadreel on hold for this.  And I can’t wait anymore.”

She moved past him again and this time, he didn’t stop her.  She went back to her room, and took off Dean’s shirt.  She quickly put on her own clothes – jeans, t-shirt.  As she sat on the bed pulling on her boots, she glanced at the blade, then back to Dean’s shirt.  She stood up, slid the blade into her belt along her leg and threw the shirt back on.  It did a good job of concealing the weapon, and if she only tied a button or two, she still had easy access to it.

She looked around the room, feeling odd.  She was leaving nothing behind and yet it felt like she was giving up so much.  She took a deep breath and made her way to the main hall.  She just saw Sam and Castiel working on something at the back of the library.  She turned the other way and walked up the steps to the balcony and then up again to the outside door.  She pushed it open like she had a couple hundred times in the last few days, and this time, when the warm sunlight filtered down through the fall trees, leaves strewn on the ground in front of her, she took the step and left.

⭐

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for straying from canon for the bunker layout in this chapter... They never clearly established where the shower room is in the show, and I added the laundry room out of logic... Unless the Men of Letters always sent out their laundry to get cleaned, I deduced its existence.  
> I also had to decide where the garage was situated logically, as the garage is actually a completely different set (shot on location)  
> Side note, this is a neat article to read about the different sets on Supernatural: http://www.thetvaddict.com/2015/11/03/supernatural-set-tour-behind-the-scenes-of-the-men-of-letters-bunker/  
> Also, the season 9 dvd has a cool behind the scenes feature all about the bunker.  
> I also changed the location of the infirmary. Its existence is canon, but they placed it where the electrical/computer/lab was, and so I relocated it above the kitchen.  
> That is all! Enjoy the rest of the fic!


	2. Part 2 - Cedar Rapids, IA

Delilah walked.  First down the narrow, broken road outside the bunker and then along the highway heading north.  The fall sun was already starting its descent, so she knew it was the afternoon.  Sam’s TV had let her know what day it was – Wednesday.  It had been two weeks since she last was at the motel, who knew what would still be there, if anything at all, and how long it would take for her to actually reach her destination.  What will she do if none of her things are there? When does she just cut losses and move on?  And if her things were gone, what would she do for money?  So many questions making her think that maybe this wasn’t her best course of action.

Still.  She was glad to be moving again.  She had been walking for about an hour, and had been passed by several cars, heading wherever they were heading, with no one stopping, when she heard the rumble of a slowing vehicle.  She turned and stuck her thumb out as it approached.  When it pulled over to the side of the road, she couldn’t believe her luck.  Then she recognized Sam’s blue Dodge Dart.

She felt happy at the sight of him and yet her shoulders slumped at the same time, she had already told him no, the persistent son of a bitch.  She walked over to his car, parked on the side of the road and purring as the engine idled.  Sam had the window down on the passenger side.  Delilah leaned on the door, crossing her arms and resting her chin on them.

“What’re you doing Sam?”

Sam leaned sideways towards her, “I’m picking up hitchhikers heading to Cedar Rapids.  I know you don’t need it, but did you see anyone else who could use a lift?”

Delilah stared at him through the open window.  He had an exaggerated smile on his face stretching his features comically.  Delilah couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.  She looked up and down the interstate, and at the setting sun.  She could feel the cold breeze that was picking up and she saw how little traffic there was.  With a sigh, she opened the passenger door and dropped into the seat.  She cranked the window back up and turned to look at Sam.

“Don’t you have an angel to hunt?”

Sam dropped the goofy grin and rubbed the back of his neck.  “The spell didn’t work, we didn’t have enough grace.  Castiel is going to continue searching for Metatron and if he comes across anything about Gadreel, he’ll let me know.  I have no leads right now myself so, I figured I’d come help out a friend in need.”

She stared at him a moment, trying to figure out what was going on under all that hair.  He just stared back, his face open and honest.  She really wasn’t equipped to hike two states in November.  _Come a little closer, then you’ll see…_ the music coming out of the radio caught her attention.  She frowned.

“Ok, I just have one question.”

_Things aren’t always what they seem to be…_

“Shoot.”

_Do you understand the things that you’ve been seeing…_

“What in the hell are we listening to?”

_Do you understand the things that you’ve been dreaming…_

“It’s Cage the Elephant.  Great alt. rock band.”

Delilah crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows skeptically, “Well that’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one… Great alt. rock?  No such thing.  I mean they call it rock, but it really isn’t.”

Sam turned to face the road and shifted out of park, accelerating and smoothly shifting up into third gear while the engine purred, before answering, “Oh? And what is good music then?”

“The classics!  Hendrix, Cooper, Pink Floyd, Cream, Allman Brothers.  Blues rock, that’s got depth.”

Sam glanced at her and smiled, “Yeah?  Well guess what?  Driver picks the music.”

He started laughing, sounding so genuinely happy, she couldn’t help but smile too… Even if this was going to be the longest car ride ever.

 

They spent most of the ride discussing music.  Turns out Sam knew as much about the classics as she did, and they did enjoy many of the same bands, but Sam also happened to prefer the newer music, instead of always listening to the same tired songs.

Somewhere around Omaha, they slipped into comfortable silence.  When they reached Des Moines, Sam pulled up at a diner for a late supper.  They were finishing up, and drinking coffee when Sam suddenly became serious again.

“So, help me out here.  Dean’s an asshole.  Trust me, I get it if you’re mad at him.  Christ I don’t want to see his face at this point.  But he’s gone.  He left.  Why do you feel you need to leave too?”

Delilah sat back against the booth’s seat, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup, “I already told you this wasn’t about your asshole brother.”

“Then what is it about?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”  Delilah’s skin was crawling again, the memories jumbling and mish mashing together as they flashed to the forefront of her consciousness.

Sam watched her sip at her coffee a long minute.  Delilah was practically squirming and ready to run away by the time he spoke again.

“For a while, I would see him.  Sometimes, he was just a face in the crowd, sometimes he would sit around and talk about nothing, or sing,” Sam said, sounding both sad and bitter. “It was so vivid.  I pulled a gun on him once.  I was sure that he had escaped, somehow.  He tried to convince me that it was me that was still trapped…” Sam swallowed hard, closing his eyes like he was in pain.

“Who?  Trapped where?”

Sam looked her straight in the eye, “Lucifer.”

Delilah felt dizzy.  What the flying fuck?  She tried to form a coherent question, but her brain was reeling so much all that came out was gibberish.  Sam kept going.  He told her about his time with Lucifer and Michael, the archangel, in the Cage and his return over a year later to his body which had been running around soulless.

Delilah tried to take it all in, throwing the information into the various compartments of her mind while trying not to repeat ‘What?’ every three words.  By the time Sam was done, her brain felt like mush.  He paid for their food and they returned to the car, each staring out the windshield.

Delilah was trying to process everything Sam had told her.  This was what she felt she understood, even if the mind blowing repercussions stopped her from really believing it.  When Dean was rescued from Hell, it started the apocalypse; the real, biblical, end of the world, Revelations, apocalypse.  Turns out Sam was meant to be Lucifer’s vessel and Dean was going to be Michael’s, in this fight to the death.  Sam tricked Lucifer by agreeing to be his meat suit, but then throwing himself into the cage, locking them away for eternity in Hell, and dragging Michael down with him for good measure.  Dean made a deal with Death, the actual Grim Reaper himself, to get Sam’s soul back from Hell, and he built a wall in Sam’s mind so he wouldn’t remember it.  The wall fell and Sam started seeing Lucifer everywhere, tormenting him, like he had done in Hell.  It was all in his head, but so vivid, Sam couldn’t figure out what was real and what wasn’t anymore.  He ended up in the looney bin, until Castiel took on his torment, freeing Sam of the visions, but going mad himself in the process…

It sounded like the plot from some twisted soap opera – they could make millions selling their memoirs in the form of novels.  She would eat them up too.  But when Delilah thought about all these things actually happening and, in fact, happening to people she knew… Well, she was having a hard time reconciling Sam’s story with the physical man sitting beside her.  And then there was Castiel’s comment about screwing up… If the Winchesters’ lives were this dramatic, did she even want to know what kind of shenanigans an angel can get up to?

As she pondered, and the miles to Cedar Rapids were quickly running out, she realized that Sam had shared with her something very painful from his past, seemingly without expecting anything in return.  In fact, if Delilah was honest with herself, Sam’s story just proved that if anybody can understand what she went through with Malachi and Adriel, it was Sam.  Could he also understand the horrors in her past? The ones that weren’t even supernatural related?  The things she had been running from her whole adult life?

She studied his profile as it was illuminated then thrown into shadows as cars drove by them heading the other way.  Would telling someone free her of her nightmares, or would she be forced to live through it again?  Would Sam look at her differently: the broken, twisted girl that she was?

They entered Cedar Rapids, and she guided him to the motel where she had been staying.  The first thing she saw was her Rust Bucket, still sitting where she had parked it what felt like a lifetime ago.  Sam parked beside it and she got out of his car and threw herself at hers, stretching her arms along the roof like she was trying to hug it, clinging to her piece of crap car, because it was something familiar.  She heard Sam scoff from the other side of his car and she peeked at him, seeing his half smile and cocked eyebrows.

“Alright Delilah, let’s go see what else we can find. Just follow my lead ok?”

Delilah nodded, rubbing her cheek happily against her car, before straightening up and following Sam into the motel’s office.  A man in his early twenties was sitting in a chair behind the desk, playing on his phone.  He didn’t even glance up as Sam walked up to the counter pulling something out of his inside coat pocket.  The guy in the chair started talking in a drone voice.

“Rooms are $80 per day, we don’t rent by the hour, check out is 11am.  I need your driver’s licence and a credit card to complete your registration.”

Clearly annoyed, Sam flipped open his FBI badge and stretched his arm so he could put it between the guy’s phone and his face.  Startled, the kid stood up to look at them for the first time.  Sam tucked his badge away again and introduced himself.

“I’m agent Perry with the F.B.I.” Though Sam wasn’t wearing his Fed suit, he still commanded respect and was completely believable, regardless of his long hair, jeans and plaid shirt.  Even Delilah almost believed it.  She took on a slightly worried look, not sure what role she was going to be playing in this charade.

“H-how can I help you, officer, agent… Sir?” He was wiping his hand nervously on his jeans, clearly something on his mind he didn’t want the FBI to know about, probably some pot in his pocket, Delilah guessed.

“This is Ms McAllister,” Sam half turned towards her, then back to the clerk, “She rented a room from you a couple weeks back.”

The clerk glanced at her, quickly. “Um, ok. If you say so.”

Sam cocked his head, looking intimidating, frowning at the guy. “Ms McAllister has been detained for the past couple of weeks and we need to access her room.  However, she no longer has her key.”

“O-official policy st-states that we throw everything away when the occupants don’t pay.  That room’s been rented since.”

Sam looked murderously calm as he looked the guy in the eye, making him squirm.  “Cut the crap kid.  You’ve been charging her credit card for the room, the latest charge dating to a couple hours ago.  Oddly enough, her card’s also been used in the past few days to purchase a few things like,” He pulled out a small notebook, “A 42” flat screen and a Playstation 4, pre-release.”  He flipped his notebook shut and Delilah tried not to look too surprised, of course Sam did his homework before coming after her.  Wait, a fucking tv and gaming console???  Jackass.

“What the hell?” she cried, milking her outrage, “I never bought a goddamn Playstation or a TV! I am not paying for that shi…” Sam turned towards her.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down.  We’ll get all this sorted out.” He flashed her a quick smile, out of sight of the clerk, and Delilah tried not to laugh as she went on.

“This jerk stole my card, I’m not paying for his stupid crap! You said if I helped you I’d be ok, this is NOT ok, what am I made of money?”

“Ma’am, I’m not going to tell you again.  Calm down.”

Sam turned back to face the clerk, and Delilah glared at him, crossing her arms and fuming.  She was very pleased to see his face had gone very pale.

“All we need is to access the room, so why don’t you just give us the spare key.”

“The rest of my things better still be there jerk off!” Delilah said loudly.

“Ma’am!  Go wait outside.”

Delilah gave the clerk one last threatening glare, and stormed out of the office.  She kept stomping until she knew she was out of sight and then she sat down on the little bench outside her room door.  Sam joined her a few minutes later with the key.  As he put the key in the lock Delilah spoke up.

“I know for a fact that that lock is no match for Sam Winchester…  I’ve seen you open a much heavier duty door than this.  So what’s with the charade?”

He opened the door and walked into the room, Delilah following closely behind, “I knew about the credit card fraud, I wanted to make sure they hadn’t also been renting the room.  If they had, your stuff wouldn’t be here anymore.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

She quickly moved around the room and took inventory of her things.  All her clothes was still there, she never bothered with designer anyways, so that was no surprise.  Also her car keys were still sitting on the table where she had left them, her Rust Bucket obviously not worth much of anything.  However, her wallet with her ID was gone and so were her cellphone and tablet.

“Yeah,” Sam said, “That was to be expected.  Identity theft and credit card fraud are kinda rampant in this country.” He winked at her and Delilah shook her head at him.  Silly Sam. “Your tablet we can recover from the cloud backup and we’ll get you a new phone tomorrow.”

“Alright then.  Guess I’ll pack up my shit and we can get going.”

“The room’s paid up until tomorrow, might as well stay.  It’s late anyways.  I can set up your new phone and tablet in the morning and then I’ll leave you to your hunting.”

Delilah didn’t respond.  She grabbed her keys and walked out of the room to check on her car.  She opened the trunk and found her boxes of books.  They had been opened, and rummaged through, but otherwise they were untouched.  She pushed them aside and lifted the cover for her spare tire.  It was still in place, but more importantly, her machete and spare knife were there as well.  She put the cover back in its place and closed the trunk.  Sam had come out too, and was pulling his laptop out of the back of the Dart with his duffle bag.

“Anything missing from there?” he asked her.

“Nope! Not even the spare.  Probably the only thing worth selling on my whole piece of crap car.  The battery’s probably gonna need a boost tomorrow, though.”

“We’ll deal with that in the morning.”

Delilah and Sam headed back to the room.  Sam turned on the computer and Delilah sat down in front of it to sort out her tablet.  A few clicks later, and she was all set.  Once she got herself another tablet she’d be able to restore all her things through her account.  She sat back in her chair and looked around.  Now what?  It was barely 11p.m., she wasn’t tired and besides, the whole one bed situation was bothering her a little bit.

Sam pulled something out of his pocket.  Delilah realized it was a money clip.  He leafed through a few bills quickly.

“Hmmm,” he said, “I guess it’s payday.”  He looked up at her, “You wanna come with?”

Delilah frowned at him, wondering what payday meant for a hunter, she knew they paid for most things through fake credit cards, but they did seem to always have cash on hand too.

“Alright, I’m game.  Where are we going?”

Sam smiled broadly, “We’re going to find a bar and hustle some pool.”

Delilah laughed, “Sounds like a party.  Let me get into character.”  She walked over to the dresser and picked a few things, then walked into the bathroom.

She emerged a half hour later, groomed and dressed.  She was wearing a pair of calf high black leather boots, a short jean skirt, her tattoo actually peaking out at the bottom, and a t-shirt with a low cropped neck, showing off her cleavage.  She threw on her jean jacket and pulled out her hair, letting it fall in waves around her shoulders and down her back.  She had lined her eyes with black liner and dark grey powder, making the golden brown pop and smoothed some dark red lipstick on her mouth.  Sam’s eyebrows were almost lost in his hairline when he looked at her.  She quickly looked down at herself,

“What?  Too much?” she asked him.

He cleared his throat, “Uh, no.  That should distract people plenty.  Might attract a bit of attention though.”

She gave him a coy look and sashayed up to him, playing with his shirt buttons, “Will it be too distracting for you?”

He looked down at her, and to his credit, his eyes did not stray down to her exposed cleavage, “I’ll manage,” he laughed.

She stepped back, feeling worried.  She didn’t have anywhere to hide any of her weapons, and she didn’t want to go out there unarmed.  She expressed her concern and Sam opened his duffel, reaching into one of the side pockets.  He pulled out a slim knife with a six inch blade that gleamed in the light and handed it to her. “That should fit in your boot.  It’s silver, so it’ll work on werewolves and shape-shifters.  Won’t do much against angels or demons though.”

“Thanks Sam,” Delilah tucked it away and they walked out of the room and to his car.

The night went mostly as expected.  They found a bar near one of the colleges and after a few beers, Sam homed in on potential targets.  They walked over, Sam and Delilah leaning into each other, she giggling more often than she ever had in her life, and he looking much more drunk than he actually was.  He lost the first game, buying everyone at the table a round of beer, flashing his money clip.  He downed his drink in a few gulps and ordered another one, going on about being a great pool player, even though he had just lost.  It didn’t take long for the kids to start talking money.

Delilah was enjoying watching Sam manipulate them.  The first game they played for money, Sam threw a couple of twenties on the table and they chose one of their friends to play against him.  Delilah walked around, flirting with the two other guys, making sure they were more focused on her legs and her chest than on the game.  Sam lost that game and she walked over to him to “comfort” him, all the while distracting the winner, pressing herself against Sam’s side, but giving the kid some serious bedroom eyes.

Sam called her on her shit, getting mad and she just batted her eyelashes innocently.  He threw down a hundred dollar bill and demanded a rematch, the kid was more than happy to oblige.  Sam kept up the drunk charade, but all of a sudden, his shots were sinking balls and the game was over very quickly.  The kid looked confused, but Sam was celebrating loudly with another round of beers, while Delilah leaned down on the edge of the table, giving the poor sap a great view of her breasts, and sticking out her ass towards his friends.  Sam asked if they wanted to play again, and this time the kid threw down the rest of his money and asked his friends to chip in theirs too.  In total, Delilah guessed there was about $800 sitting on the table, and Sam matched it.

The kid looked so focused when he chalked his cue and broke, but he was no match for Sam.  He was cool, and calculating, all drunken pretence gone, and again, the game finished quickly.  Delilah walked over to the money, resting on the edge of the table while the three guys looked on completely shocked.  As she picked up the bills though, she felt a hand close around her wrist and jerk her forward painfully.  She looked up into the face of the idiot they had just hustled who looked angry enough to hurt her.  He had her pinned to the table with his hip and raised his hand to slap her before Sam even had time to react.  Delilah moved instantly, before his hand had a chance to connect with her face: she stomped on his foot with her heel, kneed him in the groin, turned and pulled her hand to the side, never dropping the money and grabbed his wrist with her other hand, applying pressure to his twisted arm as he fell to the ground.  Before the two friends could react, Sam stepped between them and Delilah.  She released the guy’s wrist, straightened up, spit on him and walked away, closely followed by Sam.

They didn’t say anything as they hurried to the car, but once settled in the seats, and driving back out to the motel, Delilah couldn’t help but start laughing.  She counted the $1,600 dollars in her hands completely amazed.  She handed it to Sam.

“You keep it,” he said, “You earned it with that major ass kicking in there.”

“That was nothing,” she responded, glowing from the compliment, “That asshole shouldn’ve grabbed me.  Maybe he’ll think twice before he attacks a woman.”

“Fuck, I know I will.”

Delilah scoffed at him, shaking her head amused.  “You sure about the money, Sam?”

“Definitely.  Keep it.  I can get more when I need it.  That’ll be enough to get you started hunting.  And when you run out, give me a shout.  I’ll hustle with you any time.”

Delilah’s stomach shifted uncomfortably as doubt rattled around her head.  She turned to look out the side window, her face reflected in the darkened glass.

They pulled up at the motel and they went into the room, Sam turning on one of the lamps beside the bed.  He picked up one of the pillows and turned to her.

“You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor,” he told her.

“Don’t be silly Sam.  Go ahead and take the bed.  I’m going to watch TV for a while anyways.  I’m really not all that tired.”

Sam tried to argue, but she wouldn’t hear it.  He dropped the pillow back down on the bed, conceding defeat, and removed his plaid shirt, draping it over one of the chairs.  He was wearing a dark blue v-neck t-shirt underneath and Delilah couldn’t help but admire his body, outlined under the cotton.  The material was stretched tight across his shoulders and chest, his biceps emerging from the edge of the sleeves.  The fabric over his stomach and lower back though was loose, suggesting trim abs above the slender hips.  Delilah turned her eyes away and walked into the washroom to wash up, the image of Sam floating in front of her.  It’s not fair that both Winchesters were so damn easy on the eyes.  She shook the thought away and started the shower.

When she came out again, wrapped in a motel towel, Sam was passed out on top of the bed covers, his arms folded under the pillow, his face pressed into it, his hair fanned out around him.  One of his jean clad legs was bent at the knee but the straight leg was sticking out well beyond the edge of the mattress.

Delilah quickly got dressed, pulling out cotton shorts and a tank top from the dresser.  She grabbed one of the other pillows and plopped it down on the floor at the foot of the bed, facing the television.  She grabbed the tv remote and turned it on, lowering the volume so it wouldn’t disturb the sleeping giant.  She sat on the pillow and leaned back against the bed, flipping through the stations until she came across a CSI rerun, and she settled in to watch.

A few hours later, she was still watching TV when Sam stirred.  She glanced back at the bed, as he rolled to the side, sitting on the edge.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, his hair all over the place.  He reflexively passed his hands through it, taming it, and Delilah turned back to the television.  She just saw Sam out of the corner of her eye sitting down beside her and leaning back against the bed too.

“Your turn.  You can get a few hours before the stores open,” he said sleepily.

“That’s ok Sam.  I’m really not sleepy,” she answered.  And she really wasn’t.

Sam was looking at her, she could see it with her peripherals.  “My dad used to say, eat when you can and sleep where you can, because you never know when you’ll have the chance next.”

“Well, insomnia is not something I can control.  I’ll sleep when I feel tired.”

She was sitting cross legged and Sam pointed to her thigh.

“When did you get the anti-possession tattoo?”

She glanced down at it, “I got it a little after I started hunting with Dean.  I figured it wasn’t a bad thing to have.”

Sam nodded, yawning again.  They sat watching early morning reruns of whatever was playing, and Delilah finally made a decision.  She kept looking straight ahead.  She took a deep breath, holding on to every ounce of courage she had.

“The angel who tortured me was called Adriel.  She cut me, bled me, broke my bones and killed me, I don’t know how many times… for days.  And then she’d heal me, wipe my memory and start all over again.” Sam turned towards her, but she would not look at him, she couldn’t bear to see her pain reflected in his eyes.  She took another deep breath and continued, “When they couldn’t break me, Adriel gave up hurting me physically and attacked my head instead.  She forced me to relive some of the worst moments in my life.  Things that I hadn’t thought about in years.”  Delilah took a shaky breath, and Sam wrapped her in his arms, holding her close.  She knew that she could’ve stopped there, and Sam would have been fine, wouldn’t have prodded, but she found that now that she had started, she wanted to keep going.  For the first time in her life, she wanted to tell someone.

She told him about how her mother died, reliving the crash as she described that rainy night, and the argument she had been having as her mother drove.  She told him, also, how Adriel had twisted her in her dreams, moving her like a possessed puppet.  He already knew about her father’s drinking from the little bit she had told him before, but now she added the beatings he gave her and the years of psychological abuse.  She told him about the sexual abuse Adriel forced her to relive, the first of many escalating instances, always at the hands of her father’s friends, and often with him in the room.  Finally, she was quiet.

Sam didn’t say anything for quite some time, holding her in his arms.

“How did you get away?” he finally asked her, his voice hoarse, as he squeezed her again.

“Adriel came to me, disguised as D-Dean.  She pretended she was there to save me.  I saw through it though.  I-I killed her while she was wearing Dean’s face.”  Delilah took a shuddery breath, “And then I escaped, killing another angel standing guard.”

Silence stretched on, neither of them saying anything.  Then Sam broke the silence.

“Fuck.”

Delilah let out a strained laugh, “Yup.”

She pulled away from him and he sat back, one arm resting on a bent knee and the other along the mattress behind them.  She pulled up her knees to her chest, folded her arms and dropped her chin on top.

“Does Dean know any of this?” he asked, a frown on his face.

Delilah frowned too, “Why would I tell this shit to your brother?”

“I-I dunno.  Aren’t you two… involved?”

She turned her head on her arms and looked at the confused expression on his face. “I told you nothing was going on between us.”  Sam continued to look confused, Delilah sighed, “I don’t… bond… easily with people.  I’ve never really been _close_ to anyone.  In school, I was afraid that someone would find out my secret.  By the time I was an adult and I had left my father, it was like I had a wall between me and the rest of the world, and people sense that I think.  I’ve never had friends, people I could count on to be there for me.  I don’t seek out public attention, and I usually get left alone.  When I crave company, I… I find people I use for gratification and then send them on their way.”  She looked at him pointedly, and Sam’s eyebrows went up, as, Delilah guessed, he understood what she was telling him about the nature of her ‘relationship’ with his brother.  A memory of Dean holding her closely and kissing her, swearing revenge on the angels who had hurt her came to her suddenly, and her eyes turned to the floor, unfocused.  “For a second, I thought… maybe there was… I dunno, something, with Dean.” She paused, feeling her eyes misting, but she breathed in and banished the unshed tears.  “But he left so, that’s that.”  Sam looked away, frowning at the floor again. She glanced at him, worried that soon she would reach the limit of what he wanted to know about her and he would turn away, disgusted.  “Dean figured out that I was tortured, but he doesn’t have any of the details.  And, for the other stuff, I never told anyone before.”

“So, why did you tell me?” he asked her.

“I don’t know, Sam.”

She didn’t have an answer for him.  She didn’t know why she told him everything, she just did.  She was not expecting what he said next.

 “Listen,” he started earnestly, “You may think I don’t get it, but I do.  And believe me when I tell you that running away is not going to fix anything.  Friends, family, they’re what get you through the darkest parts of your life.”

“Maybe for you, but I don’t have a brother like you, I lived through all of this alone, and I had to fight my way out by myself.  I don’t know what you want from me Sam.”

“I don’t want or expect anything, Delilah.  But I think the only reason you want to go off on your own is because it’s what you know, and you’re scared of trying something different.”  He paused, “Come back to the bunker.  And if you want to hunt, we’ll hunt together.”

Delilah felt a trickle of hope glimmer deep inside.  She didn’t have to keep doing this on her own.  She told Sam the big bad monster in her past and he didn’t reject her or take off, he wanted to help her.  She looked at his patient face, just waiting for an answer.

“Ok, Sam,” she whispered, feeling that glowing hope grow a little as she did.

⭐


	3. Part 3 - Los Lunas, NM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part (Chapters 3-6incl) includes a hunt for a monster that attacks children.

They had returned to the bunker in Sam’s Dart, Delilah having transferred all her things to his back seat.  They had stopped along the way to buy her a new tablet and cell phone, Sam automatically entering his important hunter numbers, the people who could come help if she was in a pinch.  By the time they reached the bunker, her tablet was restored and she had added the broad lines of the events of the past two weeks to her journal.  She would fill in the details later.

She settled in at the bunker, bringing all her things to room 8, the room Dean had set up for her before everything went SNAFU.  She put her books along the wall shelf over her bed, set her weapons out on her dresser – knife, machete, and angel blade, put all her clothes in the dresser drawers and she put the picture of her mom on the table beside the bed.

Her days were filled with research on angels – helping Sam track down Gadreel and looking for a way to reverse Metatron’s spell.  One time, when they were stuck, Delilah and Sam went topside and sparred on the grass; she showed Sam some of her Aikido, she had never had a partner as tall as Sam and she enjoyed herself a lot.  In the evenings, she would often find herself in his room, watching a movie or some show on Netflix.  They were completely engrossed with Hemlock Grove, laughing at the twisted lore but enjoying the special effects.  Then night would come, and she would retire to her own room, all the way on the other side of the bunker, and she would toss and turn for a few hours, unable to sleep.  She wasn’t plagued by her nightmares so much anymore, just a complete lack of being tired.  She would open a book to read and find that, three hours later, she was still wide awake.  Sam’s presence at the bunker helped to buffer her feelings of being trapped, or lost, but when she did sleep, she would often wake up suddenly, on the verge of a panic attack, feeling an incredible weight sitting on her chest.  She was stuck, she needed to get out.

 

Delilah walked into the kitchen, dressed in her cotton shorts and tank top, rubbing the dryness out of her eyes.  It had been another long, sleepless night.  She had ended up curled on her favourite chair in the bunker – a thickly padded, high backed red leather chair on the mezzanine overlooking the main hall – and filling in the holes in her journal, adding the information on angels she and Sam had unearthed that day.  She liked that spot, up high and out of sight.  She liked to read there, or just curl up and watch something off her tablet.  The night hours were long to fill with nothing… And there’s only so much research a person can do without going insane.

“Morning,” Sam called out from behind his laptop.

“Mmmmm,” Delilah replied, reaching for the coffee pot.

She was turning into a coffee junkie after 30 years of resisting, oh well.  She sat on the stool opposite Sam at the table and grabbed the sugar.  She put her head down on the flat surface and watched the grains pour out of the glass container and into the dark liquid.  She could just see Sam staring at her looking amused.

“Sweet tooth?” he asked her.

“Sssh sh sh… It’ll be ok,” she mumbled at him, smiling while putting the sugar back down on the table.  She straightened up, holding the small cup in both her hands, eyes closed.  She took a gulp of the hot liquid and felt it searing its way down her throat.  “Mmmmm, I love you,” she crooned to her cup.

Sam burst out laughing.  Delilah liked Sam’s laugh, it was loud, and genuine.  She pouted at him, then took another swallow of her hot coffee before standing up again to make herself some breakfast.  She walked over to the fridge and took out the carton of eggs and the milk to make some scrambled eggs.

“You want some eggs?” she asked Sam.

“No thanks,” he answered, lifting his bowl of cereal in the air.

Eggs scrambled, she scooped them into a plate and walked back to the table, catching a glimpse of Sam’s screen.  He was reading a news article.  There was a picture of a woman pushing a kid on a swing and smiling.  Somehow the attempted filicide headline didn’t really go with the picture.  She frowned.

“What’s that all about?” she asked him, sitting down in front of her coffee again.

“A potential case, I think.  Small town near Albuquerque, New Mexico.   Neighbour called the cops on a woman who had her 6-year-old son trapped in the dryer.”

“Oh my God, is the kid ok?”

“Yeah, the kid’s fine, child protective services took him.”

“It’s sick what people do sometimes. Why do you think it’s a case?”

“Well, apparently, the mom just snapped – mom of the year and then suddenly…”

“Mom of the year doesn’t usually come with sticking kids in dryers.”

“Exactly, some of the family friends were saying that in the days before the neighbour called the cops, she had been acting weird.  Not herself.”

“Not herself… as in… possessed?”

“Maybe.  Could be demon possession, although none of the other signs match up, no dry lightning and no cattle mutilations.  Could be ghost possession.”

“Or, it could just be another fucked up human being that calls this plane of existence home.”

“Yeah, I guess.”  Sam paused, watching her over the edge of his screen.  “Wanna go find out?”

Delilah looked up at him, he was looking at her expectantly.  “Ok.  Can I finish my eggs first?” Sam grinned closing his laptop and walked off.  She called out after him, “Is that a yes?”

He didn’t respond, so Delilah stared longingly at her plate, wolfed down the remaining eggs and downed her coffee.  She scrubbed the dishes clean then headed off to the shower room to get the day started.  A road trip and maybe a hunt, just what she needed to clear the cobwebs.

 

An hour later they were on the road, watching the sun rise in the rearview mirror, as they headed south-west down towards Albuquerque.  Delilah watched towns appear on the horizon and then fade into the side mirror as they drove through them, stopping for gas, snacks and lunch.  They talked cars and movies, music and books, or they just sat quietly.  Delilah had never seen much  of the Colorado landscape, and she was amazed by the beauty of the forests and lakes and mountainscapes.  The sun was setting when she got her first glimpse of the vast New Mexico desert.  The view was breathtaking.  It was another few hours before they reached the northern edge of Albuquerque, and another hour after that to reach Los Lunas, where the mother had made the headlines.

When Sam pulled up at the Days Inn, having done the last leg of the journey claiming he couldn’t take another minute of Alice Cooper, Delilah got out of the car and stretched every joint in her body, rolling her vertebrae one after the other.  Sam went into the office to get a room, and Delilah leaned against the blue Dart, waiting for him to return.  He wasn’t gone long, handing her one of two keys as he reached her.

“I hope you don’t mind, I got us a double room.” He looked unsure. “Wasn’t really thinking, maybe you’d prefer your own room.”

Delilah gave him a smile taking the key from his hand, “One room is fine, so long as I have my own bed.  Somehow I don’t think I’d win a tug-o-war for the blankets with you.”

He let out a slightly awkward laugh, “Yeah, there’re two beds.”

He opened the trunk and they retrieved their bags.  They each got settled in the room, Delilah taking the furthest bed, dropping her bag on it.  She fell back onto the motel mattress, stretching like a cat.  “I am taking a hot shower and then you and your fake credit card are taking me to dinner.” She peeked at Sam with one eye to gauge his response.

He scoffed, then smiled a little.  Once they were both showered and changed, they walked across the street to the Denny’s to have dinner and talk plan of action for the next day.

Sam was out like a light almost as soon as they got back from their late dinner.  Delilah couldn’t help but feel envious.  She sat in bed for a long time, alternating between staring out the window at the moonlit desert, and reading up on local ghost history.  The area had plenty of rich paranormal lore, but nothing that would explain why a mom would suddenly go after her own child. She started feeling sleepy around 1 a.m. and she scooted down onto the pillows with relief.

 

Their first stop, the next day, was meeting with Ms Eileen Drummond.  She was being detained on the psych ward of Albuquerque General Hospital.  This being a job for the Fed, Delilah waited by the car for Sam to come back from his interview.  He was looking perplexed as he sat down in the driver’s seat.

“What is it?  Ghost? Demon? Psycho?” Delilah asked him, leaning her head in her hand against the door with her eyes closed.

“Actually, maybe none of the above.”  Delilah turned towards him. “I didn’t get much out of Ms Drummond, they have her on some heavy duty tranquilizers, but I scanned the room with the EMF and the readings were negative.  No smell of sulphur either, although it has been a few days, that could have dissipated.”

“Ok, so what does that leave us with?  Psycho mom, switch was thrown?  One too many tantrums?”

“I don’t think so.  She kept mumbling, “It’s not my Jake” when I tried to ask her questions.  The nurses say it’s why she’s sedated, she keeps going into these fits looking for her son Jake.  It’s definitely weird.”

“Ok, well if mom is a bust, I guess next stop is Child Services, see if we can talk to the kid.”

“Yep,” he said, turning the key in the ignition while Delilah tied her seatbelt, “Let’s do that.”

 

They pulled up at the children’s shelter.  They were posing as social workers this time, Sam leaving his suit jacket behind in the car.  Delilah’s dark wash jeans and fitted light green and blue shirt were passable.  Besides, Sam had already proven that confidence is what sells the con more than the clothes.  She let him take the lead as they approached the clerk at the desk.

“Sam Banner and Delilah Barton to see Jake Drummond.”

The clerk looked confusedly at them.  “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Sam gave her a charming smile, “We’re from social services.  We’re following up on the incident with Jake.”

The clerk frowned at him, “I thought Clara Vega was the social worker assigned to him.”

Sam leaned against the counter, “Between you and me, Clara’s been kinda swamped lately with everything happening, so she asked me to help her out.”

The clerk’s eyes widened and she leaned in towards him conspiratorially, “I heard things at home weren’t going so well.”

“I can’t really talk about that, but anyways,” Sam stood back up and turned towards Delilah who was still standing nearby looking blankly around her waiting, “I’m training a new recruit and I figured we could drop in and check up on Jake… cut Clara some slack.”

“Oh, that’s so nice of you.” She shifted her gaze to Delilah, giving her a wide smile, “Welcome to the team Ms Barton.”

“Thank you.  Happy to be here,” Delilah replied, returning the smile.

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it quickly, “I’m really sorry about this, but is it possible to see Jake?  We’ve got a meeting scheduled across town in an hour.”

The clerk started looking uncomfortable.  She shifted a few papers around on the desk. Before looking back up to them.

“I’m really sorry, it’s just not possible.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, “How come?”

“Well, Jake’s not here anymore.  I thought your office had been advised already.”

“Must have missed the memo, where was he transferred?”

“No, he wasn’t transferred, he’s just gone.”

Sam and Delilah exchanged a glance, Sam was looking worried.  “He ran away?  The kid is six,” Delilah said.

“No, he didn’t run a way.  He just, isn’t here anymore.  It’s the darndest thing really.  The police were here earlier and they couldn’t find anything either.  It’s like he just disappeared overnight.”

Sam was looking a little agitated, asking questions quickly, “No one saw anything?”

“No, the camera in the hallway outside the 6-8 dorm showed nothing at all.”

“What about windows?”

“Mr Banner, the dorm is on the fourth floor, and all the windows are locked and secure, there’s no way a six-year-old could’ve gotten out that way.  The police are completely mystified.  They put out an amber alert.”

Sam and Delilah exchanged another look.  Delilah stepped closer to the desk, “Do you have a copy of his file?”

“Oh, of course.”  The clerk turned and foraged through a small filing cabinet behind her, “I had it here this morning for the cops, but they said they didn’t need it.  Haven’t had time to return it.”  She turned back around to face them and handed a thin beige folder to her.

“Thanks,” Delilah said automatically, opening it to look at the information.

“Do you mind if we hold on to this for a bit?” Sam asked, “I’ll have Clara drop it off again, she’s going to want to see this.”

“No, no, of course!”

“Thank you.”

Delilah quickly scanned through the documentation in the file: general identity information, next of kin, psychological evaluation and incident reports.  Sam put his hand behind her shoulder and guided her out the door as she breezed through the psych report.  They stood in the parking lot, next to Sam’s car.

“So? Anything interesting in there?” he asked her.

“I don’t know.  Everything seems to be fairly normal I think.  The psych eval mentions the kid wasn’t very responsive, staring blankly and not saying anything much.  But if I’d been trapped inside a dryer, I don’t think I’d be talking much either.”  Sam hmmed, thinking.  Delilah continued, “There’s an incident report here related to Jake, apparently he was pushed around a bit by some kids on the playground.”

“And?”

“Nothing.  The supervisor’s only comment on it was that Jake looked like he was in a ‘trance’.  You think there’s something wrong with the kid?  Could a ghost have possessed him, not mom?  Maybe mom was defending herself when she put him in the dryer.”

Sam took the file from her hands and leafed through the few documents himself, “Maybe, it would explain why she keeps saying it’s not her son.  But, some of this just doesn’t add up.  Let’s go check out the neighbour.”

Sam handed the folder back to her and they got into the car, heading for the address in the file.

 

They pulled up to a house like every other house on the block in a typical suburban neighbourhood: every home had a small tree or two, a fenced in yard, thin grass or pebbles covering the front yard.  It was beautiful but so different from the green lawns of suburban Kansas she was used to.

Sam parked in front of the Drummond house and they each got out of the car.  Delilah shivered as a cool wind picked up suddenly and she reached into the back to grab her jean jacket.  Sam joined her on the sidewalk, looking at the house where a few days ago, a mom went nuts.  Or so the world thought.  Delilah handed the beige folder to Sam.

“Why don’t you hold onto that,” he told her, “In fact, you go interview the neighbour.  I’m going to go snoop around at the Drummonds’.”

“You want me to go alone?”  Dean never let her go alone when they hunted, she was lucky if he let her take point in the interviews.

Sam smiled at her, “What’s wrong?  As I recall it, you did a whole lot more than that when you hunted down that lamia a couple months back.  Suburban families should be a piece of cake.”

Delilah felt herself blush at the compliment and she turned away so Sam wouldn’t see it.  She was glowing on the inside.  She took a deep breath, feeling the confidence racing through her and she gave Sam a smile before she walked away, headed for the address they had found for Charles Malbourne, the neighbour who had denounced Ms Drummond.

Delilah rang the doorbell on a beige and brown house with a red ceramic tile roof.  It looked just like all the other houses on the street with the vast New Mexico desert as a backdrop.  She waited, listening to the distant sounds of kids playing.  She rang the bell again, and finally the door opened.  She tucked the file folder under her left arm and introduced herself as Delilah Barton from social services.  The man standing in the doorway was blond with blue eyes and a golden tan.  He was wearing a grey t-shirt and jeans, a tattoo just peeking below the edge of his sleeve and another on his forearm.  He had a trim waist and strong arms and he probably had all the suburban moms swooning when he did his morning jogging around the block.  Delilah knew the type all too well, having met her fair share in bars back home over the years.  The man smiled, brimming with self confidence as he leaned against the doorframe crossing his arms on his chest, making them bulge.

Delilah suppressed an eye roll and smiled back.

“Pleased to meet you, Delilah.”  She tried not to ruffle at the intentional disregard for her (fake) last name, “How can I help social services?  You’re not here to take my kid are you?” he asked mockingly, showing off his pearly white teeth, “I only lock her in the basement on Tuesdays I swear!”

Dear God the man was an ass.  “Actually, I’m here because Jake Drummond ran away from the shelter yesterday.”

“Oh boy.  Can’t keep track of the little suckers?” He smiled again… Delilah wondered if his face was hurting yet.

“Yes, well.  There’s no next of kin listed in his file and so as a friend of the family, I thought that maybe you’d be able to help me shed light on where he could be.”

“And what makes you think I’m a friend of the Drummond family?” His expression had lost a little of its lightness.

“The police report says you’re the one who contacted them about the incident…  I assumed, considering how far apart your houses are, that visiting Ms Drummond was a regular occurrence… Since you caught her in the act and all.”

Delilah stared at him, unblinking, letting him know exactly what she assumed his relationship was with the mom down the road.  She was pleased to see him ruffled a bit as he straightened up and stepped back from the doorway, gesturing for her to come inside and closing the door behind her.  He led her to the living room where she walked around a bit, looking at family photos on the mantle as he disappeared into the kitchen to get coffee.  The photos revealed a happy, smiling family of three: mom, dad and a little girl.  They were typical family photos.  She stared at the large wedding photo hanging in the middle of the wall, a younger Charles Malbourne and his incredibly pretty wife cutting a large white wedding cake.

Mr Malbourne walked back into the living room and handed her a cup with #1 mom written on it in big colourful block letters.  She took it from him with a thank you.  Delilah looked at one of the pictures again: the family unit at the park.

“How old is your daughter Mr Malbourne?” she asked him.

“Charlie, please.”  He smiled at her when she glanced back at him. “Beccy just turned seven last week. Big neighbourhood party.  A lot of the people around here have young children.”

“Is that how you know the Drummonds?”

“Yeah, Jake and Beccy are in the same class,” he answered sitting down on the couch and putting his cup on a coaster on the side table.

“Was Jake at the party then?”  Malbourne’s face lost some of its charm for a faltering second.  Delilah frowned, tilting her head.  “What is it?”

He was looking more uncomfortable by the minute, tapping the side of his coffee cup with a nail and staring at the floor.  Delilah walked over to where he was sitting and put down her coffee and folder on the low table, before sitting down beside him.  She laid her hand on his and gave it a comforting squeeze.  He looked up at her, his blue eyes locking onto her, no trace of a flirtatious look.  “Please Charlie.  Any little detail could help us locate Jake.”

“It’s not about Jake,” he said softly, “It’s something Eileen said at the party. It’s been bothering me ever since.  It’s why I went to check on her in the first place.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that Jake, wasn’t right.  That something was wrong with him.”

“What was wrong with him?” she asked, anxious to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Charlie looked away, “I… I didn’t ask.  I was more worried about what people would say, seeing us talking…  What my wife would think.  I dismissed Eileen.  Told her she should go home and rest ‘cause she was looking tired.  Then she left, in a huff.”

Delilah couldn’t blame her for storming away, but none of this was helpful so far.  She already knew from Sam’s interview with Eileen that she thought something was off about Jake.  They needed to know what that was.

“What about Jake, Charlie?” she asked him, taking her hand away, but continuing to look at him, trying to read his face.  He frowned and looked back at her, perplexed.

“What about him?”

“Did you notice him acting differently?  A little strange?  Maybe a strange smell coming from him?”

Charlie looked at her and suddenly started laughing. “I’m sorry, I don’t go around smelling children.” His laughter trailed off and he continued, “No, I didn’t notice anything different.  He was maybe a little quieter than usual, not running around with the other kids.”

“Did he seem sad?”

The blond man looked pensive for a few moments, “Mmmm, no, not sad.  It was more like, neutral. Not happy, not sad…  Just there.  Next thing I know his mom is shoving him in a dryer... Who knows what she’d done to him before that.”

Delilah sat back against the couch cushions staring forward.  This was so strange.  If a ghost or a demon was possessing Jake, he wouldn’t have appeared emotionless, usually possessing spirits were violent, and demons… Well they really didn’t keep low profiles…  You don’t become a demon by being numb.

Suddenly, the front door opened and a little girl in curly pigtails walked into the house.  Charlie called out to her.  “Hey there, Piglet.  Had a nice day at school?”

The little girl turned to face them and walked into the living room.  She stood in front of the couch staring at Delilah.  The hair on the back of her neck stirred, standing on end.

“Who is she?” she asked accusingly.

“Don’t be rude Rebecca,” Charlie chastised her gently, “This is Delilah.  She’s a friend of Jake’s. She came to tell us how he’s doing.”

“That’s right,” Delilah tried to say cheerfully while her whole body was on high alert.

“I don’t like her. Make her go away.”  Delilah blinked at the anger in the girl’s voice.

“Rebecca! That’s enough.” Charlie said, standing up from the couch, “Go to your room.”  The girl kept right on glaring at Delilah and she stood up too.  “Now!” finished Charlie, raising his voice a little.

The little girl huffed, turned on her heels and walked away.  Charlie turned to look at Delilah.  “I’m so sorry about this. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.  Ever since the thing with Jake her attitude is all over the place.”

“That’s quite alright, I understand.  I should probably go.”  Delilah bent down and picked up the beige folder from the coffee table.  “Thank you for the coffee.”

He followed her all the way to the front door, apologizing again for his daughter’s behaviour before Delilah walked out and headed back to Sam’s Dart.  She pulled her tablet out of her bag and started writing down notes from the interview, both what the man had told her about Jake and the weird behaviour and impressions she got from the little girl, Rebecca.

Sam joined her barely a few minutes later and they got into the car, heading back towards the motel, exchanging the information they had gathered.  He hadn’t found anything odd at the Drummond house at all, but he became very pensive listening to Delilah tell him about her interview with the neighbour.  They still weren’t convinced though that anything supernatural was happening.

They stopped at a little pizzeria to grab dinner, then headed back to the motel.  They had decided to give it another day, maybe talk to some of the other friends, see if they had any other insights into what could have happened with Jake and his mom.  If tomorrow nothing new cropped up, then they’d head back to Kansas.

As they pulled into the parking lot at the motel, Sam’s phone started ringing.  He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID before putting it to his ear.

“Agent Banner.”  There was a pause as he listened, staring intently out the windshield.  “Alright, I’m on my way.”  He turned to Delilah, “Something’s happened to Eileen Drummond.  I’m going to head over there, see what’s up.”

“Alright, I’ll stay here, prepare a list of people to check out tomorrow.  Be careful.”

“Right.  See you in a bit.”

Delilah got out of the car and headed into the motel room as she heard Sam pull back out of the parking lot and head back onto the road, headed for the city.

~


	4. Chapter 4

As it turns out, Sam wasn’t gone more than a couple of hours.  When he got back, Delilah was sitting at the small desk in the room, some TV movie playing while she worked on her tablet.  He dropped the car keys on the desk by the door and sat down heavily on his bed, staring at the floor.  She turned in her chair as he explained that Ms Drummond had killed herself.  Right there in the hospital, secured to her bed, she had somehow managed to get loose, find a sharp blade and cut herself open in so many places, she had bled out before anyone could do anything about it.

“There was blood everywhere.  And still no trace of anything other than sick people doing fucked up shit.”  Delilah came to sit next to him on the end of the bed.  She took his hand in hers, trying to give him some comfort.  “This case, if it even is a case… It’s just.”

“It’s fucked up Sam.  But we’ll figure it out.  And if it turns out to be nothing but a suburban mom having a psychotic break, well, then there’s nothing more we can do.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, pulling the hair back out of his face.  Sam sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I found a few people to talk to tomorrow.  We can check them out in the morning, and if there’s nothing new we can head back to Kansas by lunch.”

Sam nodded.  Delilah got up again and headed back to her tablet on the desk.  She tried to keep her eyes down as Sam stripped out of his white dress shirt and tie and then dropped his pants.  He stood in his boxers long enough to fold and hang his suit before crawling under the blankets and turning the bedside light off.  Delilah took a deep, settling breath.  She would probably never get used to that.  Even though he had showed no more than any man would at the beach, there was something that always unsettled her about how nonchalantly he undressed with her around.  She should really find it comforting, shouldn’t she?  That Sam is that easy-going around her?  Doesn’t it just prove that he thinks of her only as a friend, as an asexual being?

Only problem was that she really wasn’t asexual, and Sam had a hell of a body.  His display only served to make her uncomfortably aroused with no outlet for that pent up energy.  The last time she’d been with someone was Dean and that had been weeks ago.  She stared blankly at her tablet a few more minutes, listening to Sam’s sleepy breathing, before making up her mind.  She got up quietly, grabbed her bag, and turned the light off by her bed, darkness wrapping itself around the room.  She grabbed Sam’s keys off the table and left the motel room.

She drove out to Albuquerque, following the directions on her GPS to a pool hall downtown.  She parked the car and made her way into the bar.  It was crowded on a Friday night, even if the evening had really only just started.  She looked around the dimly lit space, each red matted pool table lit up by its own overhead lamp. The glass display behind the long mahogany bar was putting on a light show of its own.  She walked by a large, modern jukebox and peered at the music selection.  She picked three songs before continuing her bee line for the bar.  She smiled at the cute blonde bartender as she made her way to where she was sitting.

“What can I get ya?” she asked her.

Delilah quickly scanned the bottles at the back of the bar.  “Gimme a honey Jack on the rocks.”

The waitress grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels honey whiskey and poured her a portion then dropped two ice cubes into the liquid.  Delilah paid for her drink and turned around on the bar stool to scan the crowd.  There were plenty of people in odd assortments playing pool at the many tables and plenty more sitting around at the tall round cocktail tables.  Delilah guessed the average age of the patrons to be around her own, maybe a little younger.

She sipped at her drink, enjoying the heat of the cold liquor as it tingled sweetly in her mouth and then warmed a path down to her stomach.  She watched, and she waited.  She enjoyed observing people, out for a good time on a Friday night.  Some of them were loud and rambunctious, a few were working their magic, maybe out on dates with significant others, or first timers.  There were a few pockets of girls, just enjoying a girls’ night at a hopping bar.  Some were playing pool, but some were just chilling, observing the assortment of men on display, much like she was doing herself.

After an hour of people watching, Delilah spotted a man with potential.  He was average height with a very average build, nothing special about him that would stand out.  He looked like he was in his late twenties.  He had darkish hair, hard to distinguish colours in this lighting, and fine facial features with a strong jaw.  He was wearing black jeans and a black and grey vertical striped shirt.  He was playing pool with another man, who kept checking out the tables with the single ladies out on the town.

Delilah ordered herself another honey Jack and observed the striped shirted man as he lined up a shot at the pool table and sank two solid balls with one hit.  Not a bad play actually.  He looked up at his buddy who had missed it because he was exchanging winks with one of the young looking, overly done up girly girls at a table nearby.  Striped shirt guy rolled his eyes and looked up, his gaze falling on Delilah who kept her eyes focused on him from across the room.  She raised her eyebrows appreciatively and smiled at him, clapping silently, praising his shot.  He frowned and quickly looked around him, not sure her praise was aimed at him.  He turned back towards her and she sipped at her drink, turning back to the bar, to lean her arms on it.  It wasn’t long before an arm in a rolled up striped shirt appeared on the bar beside her.

She turned to look at the man previously playing pool.  He was leaning against the bar, not taking a seat just yet, maybe pretending he was just ordering a drink to avoid embarrassment if he had misread his cue.  Delilah smiled, he hadn’t misread anything.

“Hey, that was a pretty good shot there,” she told him, starting the conversation and confirming that she had, indeed, been watching him.

He turned to look at her, and from this distance, she could see that his hair was a medium brown, and his eyes were dark, almost black.  His eyebrows arched smoothly along his brow, widening his narrow face.  He had dark lashes lining his eyelids and a dark five o’clock shadow along his jaw and upper lip.  He lowered his eyes again, a shy smile on his face.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice smooth like syrup, “I’m Anthony.”

“Nice to meet you Anthony.”  She smiled at him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he said, glancing at her again.

She looked at him coyly, “And you know everyone who comes here?”

He laughed, staring at the counter, “No, not really.  It’s just that, I can’t imagine not noticing you, if we had been here at the same time before.”

Delilah gave him a smile, “Wooo,” she said, “That _almost_ didn’t feel like a line.”

He laughed again, looking down shyly and then glanced back at the pool table where his friend was now waiting for him.  Delilah looked around his leaning body to see what the friend was doing.  He was openly staring at them.  He made eye contact with her and gave her a lascivious look.  Delilah rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Anthony, who was looking at her again.  He straightened up and sighed deeply.

“What is it?” Delilah asked him.

“Oh, nothing.  It’s just that Mark spotted you.  He’s going to come over here in a minute.”

“I see.  Well, it’s a shame for him, he’s really not my type.  The whole classic, blonde, arrogant meat head look is really not that attractive.”

Anthony looked right at her and she locked stares with him.  To press her point, she laid a hand on his arm just above his bent elbow and gave him a little squeeze.  Timing could not have been better as the first notes of INXS’s Need You Tonight started playing from the jukebox.

Delilah slowly leaned up towards him, her lips against his ear, she whispered, “You wanna get out of here?”

He leaned away to look at her face again, “Ah, hell yes,” he answered.

He took her hand and walked out the door with her in tow just as his buddy Mark got close to the bar.  He had a confused look on his face as he watched them leave and Delilah gave him a wink and a wave before the door closed behind her again.  Out in the cool November air and away from the loud pool hall, Delilah tugged on Anthony’s arm.  He stopped and turned around, and Delilah pulled him towards her, pressing her lips to his as he bent down.  He put his hands on her hips kissing her back.  She wrapped her arms around his torso holding him close, feeling the throb in her lower regions as she anticipated what would come next.  Anthony’s hands moved to her face and he broke the kiss, panting a little.

“So, where did you want to go?” he asked her.

“Let’s go to your place,” she said, giving him a seductive look.  He looked unsure for a second.  “Is that no good?”

“No, my place is fine, it’s just that I came with Mark and I live out in North Valley.”

Delilah gave him another smile, “Not a problem, I’ll drive.”

She pulled away from him, taking her keys out of her bag and walked over to where she had parked Sam’s blue Dart.  When she unlocked the door, Anthony let out an appreciative whistle.  Delilah smiled as she got in and leaned over to unlock his door, she certainly had never gotten that reaction with her beat up Tercel.  He dropped into the seat and Delilah pulled away from the parking heading out onto the road following his directions.

Half an hour later they were parked again, this time in front of a red townhouse style apartment complex.  They walked in through the door and Delilah looked around briefly, taking in a spacious living room and kitchen, stairs on her left leading up to a second floor.  The place was not cluttered, but not tidy, obviously he wasn’t expecting to bring home anyone.

Delilah closed the door behind her as he walked into the kitchen.  Delilah shrugged off her jean jacket and put it down with her bag by the door.

“Can I get you anything to eat, or drink… Uh?” he called out to her.  She walked around the corner and into the kitchen and he turned around to look at her, “I don’t remember your name.” He looked apologetic.

She gave him a coy smile, “I didn’t give it to you.”

She moved closer to him and undid the buttons on his shirt, slipping her hands under the soft fabric and on his warm skin.  He bent down and kissed her again, his hand cupping the back of her head.  She parted her lips and slid her tongue along his mouth before nipping at his lower lip.  He pulled away again, but kept his hand in her hair.

“Oh God, I’m not gonna end up murdered or robbed am I?  Is this like in those TV shows; you distract me while some crazy dudes come in here and wreck the place?”

Delilah couldn’t help but laugh, the poor guy was so worried, “I promise, it’s not like that.” She kissed him again, “We’re just blowing off steam here.” She glided her hands up his torso and around his shoulders, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”  She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and nipped his collar bone as she stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “Unless you want me to.”

 

It was going on 3 a.m. when Delilah quietly pushed the motel door open, trying not to make too much noise.  She put her bag down by the door, kicked off her shoes and draped her jacket on the sofa chair in the corner.  She walked into the bathroom and started the shower.  She washed, thinking about her time with Anthony, and feeling sated and relaxed.  It hadn’t been exotic, or kinky or even particularly rough, but it certainly had hit the spot.

Clean and happy, she got out of the shower, drying herself with a motel towel then wrapping it around her.  She twisted the water out of her hair, over the sink, brushed it smooth and then braided it to sleep.  Grabbing her clothes off the floor, she headed back out into the room and to her side.  She dropped her clothes in a pile by her bed and draped the wet towel on the back of the desk chair.  She slipped on fresh panties and a t-shirt from her travel bag.

“Where did you go?” Sam asked from his bed, making Delilah jump out of her skin.

“Jesus Sam!  I thought you were sleeping.”

The bedsprings groaned as he rolled onto his side and leaned up on his elbow.  “I’m a light sleeper.  Is everything ok?”

Delilah crawled between the sheets on her bed.  “Everything’s fine.  I couldn’t sleep, so I went out.”

“Out where?” he asked as he laid back down on his back.

“To a bar.  Picked up a guy. Then we went back to his place.”  What else was she supposed to say?

“Oh!”  Sam fell silent and Delilah started feeling a little awkward, wondering just how long he had been awake… and silent.

“Look you can lecture me about my promiscuous lifestyle tomorrow ok?  I’m going to sleep.”

She rolled onto her side away from him and wrapped her arm around the pillow, closing her eyes.  She refused to let herself feel bad about being caught.  She didn’t do anything wrong.  She fell asleep shortly after, slipping into unconsciousness while thinking of the night’s activity with her one-time lover.

 

_She kissed the familiar lips, sighing into his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her naked body. She could feel him inside her, as she sat astride his lap.  She moved her hips, the friction sending ripples through her and she moaned from pleasure.  He pulled his mouth away and trailed kisses down her throat.  She leaned back and he took her nipple in his mouth.  She clung to him, holding on to his hair and sighing his name, “Dean.”  He stilled suddenly and as he lifted his head to look at her, it wasn’t his clear green eyes looking into hers but Adriel’s steel blue ones.  Delilah scrambled back but found herself chained once more in that small room and the angel moved in on her, sinking an angel blade deeply into her sternum.  Delilah felt the life bleeding out of her as Adriel laughed, morphing back into Dean as she twisted the blade slowly._

She woke up abruptly, light flooding the room and two large hands on her back shaking her.

“Delilah wake up!”  Sam said forcefully.

Lightning quick, she pushed herself up with her arms and kneeled on the bed, looking all around her for the danger.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she saw nothing other than Sam standing by the bed in his shorts, a sweat-soaked shirt and running shoes.

“What’s going on Sam?” she asked him, sitting on her heels and trying to calm her heart.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said apologetically.

“Oh,” she tried to think back to before Sam woke her.  Disjointed flashes of Dean and Adriel came back to her, but nothing coherent. “I don’t remember.”

She turned and fell back onto the mattress, her head on the pillows.  That strange weight on her chest was back.  She glanced at Sam, “D’you go for a run?”

Delilah now awake, Sam had moved away and was taking out a fresh suit for the day, laying it out on his bed.  “Yeah, I woke up earlier and needed to blow off some steam I guess.”

Delilah laughed, “You and I have very different ways of blowing off steam, Hun.”

“I guess so.” He glanced at her quickly as he grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from his duffel, “I’m gonna hop in the shower quickly and we can head out after that.  See if we can get to the bottom of this case.”

“Right!” Delilah answered rocking back into a sitting position and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Sam closed the bathroom door and Delilah took advantage of the privacy to get dressed.  She pulled on a pair of black straight-legged pants and a creamy yellow shirt, slipping on a black three-button vest on top.  She undid her braid, her hair still a little damp, and let it fall in waves around her shoulders and back.  She pulled out her travel kit and put on black eyeliner and golden-brown eye shadow.  She was applying lipstick, just a shade darker than her lips, when Sam came out of the bathroom in his boxers again, his damp hair already settling into its usual wave around his face.  He quickly got dressed, putting on his suit and tightening the red and grey striped tie.  He slipped his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket, and Delilah threw on her black knit cardigan and they left the motel.

They had a quick breakfast across the street where Delilah filled him in on the list of people Agent Banner and Ms Barton should be questioning today.

Shit hit the fan when they turned onto the Drummonds’ street.  Gyrating lights were everywhere as police and emergency care vehicles were crowded around a house two thirds down the street.

“Oh my God!” Delilah said, “That’s Charlie’s house.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“Charles Malbourne, the neighbour I questioned yesterday.  What the hell is going on?”

Sam parked the car on the side of the road. “Ok, you hang back.  I’ll go see what happened.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said, scrambling out after him.

Sam didn’t argue.  He tied the buttons on his jacket and they headed for the house.  He flashed his badge as they approached the police tape, Delilah following close behind.  They walked up to the police sergeant, Sam pulling out his badge again.

“What happened here?” he asked the sergeant.

The sergeant was tall and square and Delilah could tell he wasn’t used to looking up to other people, he was somewhat combative when he responded, “Why is the F.B.I. investigating an accidental death?  Who contacted you?”

Delilah stepped from behind Sam to answer, “We were in the neighbourhood interviewing people related to the missing child from CPS.”

“And who the hell are you?” He glared at her.

She frowned and held out her hand, “I’m Delilah Barton, from Social Services.” The sergeant did not shake her hand and she pulled it back.  “Agent Banner and I are cooperating on this case.”

“Right, well I fail to see how this is connected to your missing kid, Ms Barton.”

“I was here yesterday, I spoke to Mr. Malbourne.  He knows Jake Drummond.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Malbourne was found suffocated this morning.”

Delilah felt like she was just punched in the gut. She stared blankly ahead, shocked.

“Suffocated how?” Sam asked, bringing her back.

“By his car.  Seems Mr. Malbourne was working under his car when the jack released dropping the vehicle onto his chest.  The coroner will know more post autopsy.”

Sam handed his card to the sergeant, “I would appreciate it if you kept me informed when the results are out.”

The sergeant looked at them again, narrowing his eyes, “Just what exactly do you expect us to find from a guy crushed by his own car that would interest the F.B.I.?”

“All I know, is that the missing child’s mother died suddenly last night and now her neighbour is also dead suddenly.  It’s suspicious.”

“In my line of work, we call it a coincidence Agent.”

The sergeant walked away as a gurney with a covered body was wheeled past.  Delilah did her best to control her facial expression as bile rose to her mouth.  Sam watched the body get put into the ambulance, but Delilah turned her head away.  Movement in one of the windows caught her attention and she turned to look just as a curtain fell back into place, but not before she caught a glimpse of a curly blonde pigtail.

“Sam,” Delilah said, getting his attention and pointing to the house, “I think we need to talk to Mrs Malbourne.”

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked her.

“I think that whatever this is has changed targets.  If we can get in there, the signs will still be fresh.”

“Alright.” He handed her the EMF detector, “I’ll interview her, you see if you can’t get a good read.”

They headed towards the front door where an officer was standing watch.  Sam pulled out his badge again and gained easy entry for both of them.  Sam and Delilah located Mrs Malbourne quickly, she was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window, ignoring the various people walking around her house.  Sam nodded to Delilah and she walked down the hallway.  She walked with the scanner at her hip, concealing it whenever she crossed paths with someone.

As she finished her circuit around the house, the EMF not reacting one bit, she came across the owner of the pigtails sitting in the living room on her own.  She was staring straight ahead in a way that Delilah could only describe as numb.

Under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed it as expected behaviour when you lose a parent tragically, hell, she probably acted the same way when her mother died, but considering the reports of Jake’s behaviour from the shelter…  Delilah approached the little girl carefully, pointing the still silent EMF reader towards her.  She sat down on the couch beside her, placing the reader between them, the thing still silent.  No smell of sulphur either.

“Hey Beccy,” Delilah said calmly, “Do you remember me?  From yesterday?”

The little girl turned her head to look at her, but didn’t answer.  Delilah felt goosebumps break out all over her skin and she suppressed a shudder.  Suddenly, the little girl jumped up and ran off, Delilah turned her head to follow her and saw Sam standing in the room’s archway, Beccy holding on to her mother.

Delilah walked over and shook the mother’s hand introducing herself.  Sam tilted his head towards the door, signalling their time to go, and they both expressed their condolences before walking out the front door.  They did not talk until they were both back in the car.

“I think it’s safe to say that there is definitely something going on here,” Delilah told Sam.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think that too,” he replied.

Delilah told Sam about the negative EMF, but also about the little girl’s behaviour matching the description of Jake’s behaviour at the shelter.  She also added how the father had commented that she hadn’t been acting normally since Jake was taken away.

Sam shared with her that Malbourne wasn’t the first accidental death in the neighbourhood.  Earlier that week another of the families nearby lost its patriarch; another accident, another report of kids acting strangely.

“So if we’re not dealing with ghosts or with a demon, what the hell is it?  What kind of creature goes after families?” Delilah mused to herself as she fired up her tablet.

“What did you just say?” Sam asked her, his eyes wide.

Delilah looked up at him, he was looking at her intently.

“What, Sam?” she asked him, confused by his reaction.

“It’s targeting families,” he said.

“Well, yeah.  I mean the Drummonds, both Mom and Jake were affected.  The Malbournes, Dad dies, Beccy is acting weird, you spoke to the mom.  And now apparently another family has a dead Dad, and screwed up kids.”  Delilah paused, Sam looked off into the empty space in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed.  She went on, “I think we need to go see this other family, did you get their name from Mrs M?”

Sam didn’t react.  Delilah was getting worried.  She put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shake.  “Sam.”

He snapped back and looked at her, “I think I know what this is.”

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead, “You do?  So what is it?”

“I think we’re dealing with changelings.”

Delilah stared at him dumbfounded, “Changelings,” she paused waiting for confirmation.  He nodded.  “But changelings are just old wives’ tales to explain disabilities and birth defects… aren’t they?”

“Actually no, changelings are creatures.  They kidnap children and take on their appearance.  That’s why they seem to act weird, it’s not really them at all.”

“But why?  What do they do?”

“The changelings feed on the moms, while the kidnapped children are food for the mother changeling.”

“Mother changeling?  Christ Sam.” Delilah absorbed this new information. “Does that mean the real kids are still out there?”

Sam nodded, eyes wide.  Delilah’s brain exploded into action mode pulling her in different directions at once.  They had to save the kids, but where were they? How do you kill a changeling? Oh my God, the mothers are in danger.  How do you save them?  Where should they go first?  Save the Malbournes? Find the nest? What?

Delilah settled on the only question that would help her save anybody, “How do you kill changelings?”

“You burn them.”

Delilah nodded and pushed open the car door.  She had barely taken ten steps that Sam had caught up to her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

“To save Mrs Malbourne.  I’m gonna burn that pigtailed zombie changeling before she can hurt her,” she answered staring beyond Sam to the red roofed house.

Sam shook his head, “And how are you going to do that?  The place is crawling with cops right now.”

Delilah’s brain registered the issue, but kept yelling at her to get to saving already!  “We have to warn her at least!”

Sam was ever patient as he said, “You want to march back in there and tell a grieving widow that her daughter is a monster who killed her husband because he was interfering with her feeding?”

Delilah’s shoulders slumped, and she swallowed hard.  She took a deep breath and shifted her eyes to Sam’s cool gaze.  “So what do we do then?  She’s trapped in there with that thing.”

“Look, I already laid the ground work when I questioned her.  I left her my card, she’ll call if there’s a problem ok?”  Delilah nodded, trusting Sam’s experience.  “In the meantime, we’re going to check on the other family, see if we can’t get a lead on the nest mother.  Because if we find the nest, we find the missing kids and if we eliminate the changeling mother, all her offspring die too.”

He straightened up, letting go of her shoulders now that she had calmed down.  She still stared at the Malbourne house, wishing somehow that she could just go in there and fix at least one problem, but Sam was right.  Going in now would do more harm than good.  They walked back to the car, Sam climbing in behind the wheel and Delilah plopping down in the passenger’s seat.

Turns out the other family, the Palacios, was on her list of neighbours to question.  They lived only a few streets over.  Sam drove to the end of the street, and turned right, following the map on her phone.  They passed by a small park where kids were playing in the mid-morning sunshine, a mix of moms and dads sitting on benches catching up, the occasional parent pushing a swing.  Delilah looked on, in apprehension, a solid mass sitting heavily in her stomach making her nauseous… these people had no idea that they and their children were in danger.  They moved beyond the park and turned another corner.  They pulled up to the house and parked, staring out the windows.  The house was still, no movement in the windows, no sound coming from the yard.  It looked like no one was home.

“Could they be gone somewhere?” asked Delilah.

“It’s possible, but not likely.  Are you armed?”  Delilah pulled out the silver knife he had given her back in Cedar Rapids and he frowned.  “When we get back to the bunker, I’m teaching you to shoot.”

Delilah rolled her eyes and got out of the car, tucking the knife back into her belt.  Sam joined her and they made their way up the drive to the front door.  Delilah rang the doorbell, on pins and needles.  When no one came to answer Sam banged on the door with the side of his fist.

“Mrs Palacio,” he called out loudly, “It’s the F.B.I.  We need to speak with you.” Delilah looked at him worried. To her he said, “Stay here.  I’m gonna go around back and try there.  If you don’t hear from me in 10 minutes, you get the hell out of here and call one of those hunters I put in your phone, got it?”

“Sam…”

“This isn’t a discussion.”

Delilah pursed her lips and nodded.  Sam went left, around the house and disappeared.  It was a tense moment of acute listening and near panics and silent begging until finally, Sam opened the front door letting her in.  He closed the door behind her and she could tell by the look in his face that not all was well in the Palacio dwelling.

“What is it Sam?  Did you find her?” she asked, dreading his answer.

“Yeah, I found her.  She’s upstairs.”

“Dead?”  Sam nodded. “So what do we do now?”

“Let’s look around, see if we can’t find anything that might lead us to the nest.  Then we can call the cops and let them deal with the body.”  Delilah nodded, looking around at the tidy hall and then glancing up the stairs apprehensively.  “I’ll look around upstairs,” said Sam, “if you want to take downstairs.  Try not to touch too much, we don’t want the cops thinking it was a robbery.”

“Gotcha.”

Sam pursed his lips, nodding his head slightly, then he turned around and headed up the stairs.  Delilah went left through a door that lead her to an office.  She looked around the desk, not sure what she was looking for, and mostly trying not to think about Mrs Palacio upstairs.  She stumbled upon a small frame with a family photo inside; mom, dad and two kids.  Mom had thick brown curly hair and was wearing big sunglasses covering half her face and dad had on a backwards baseball cap, they were sitting on a blanket having a picnic.  The boy looked like he was maybe 8 or 9 and he was smiling broadly at the camera one arm around a younger girl, maybe 6 or 7, with jam all over her face.  They both had big brown eyes and looked so carefree and innocent.  Delilah held onto the picture, remembering what it felt like to be their age.

“Hey,” Sam said, making her jump, as he peered in around the door frame.

Delilah clutched at her chest and put the picture down on the desk.  Sam walked up to her, a concerned look on his face.

“You ok, Delilah?”

“Yeah, Sam.” Her heart was returning to its regular rhythm, “Sorry, I must’ve spaced out or something.  Did you find anything upstairs?”

“Nothing that’ll lead us to the nest, but it’s definitely changelings.” He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a few times before turning it towards her.

Delilah looked at the screen, not sure she understood what she was seeing.  She looked back up at Sam.

“When changelings feed, they latch on to the back of the neck and suck on synovial fluid.  It leaves this red mark…”

“Like the world’s biggest hickey, yeah.”

She looked at the picture again now that she knew what she was looking at.  The mark was no longer red, but the circular bruising inside a ring of small punctures was clear.  Sam turned the phone away and put it back in his pocket.  He glanced down at the picture she had been looking at.

“Isn’t that the park down the road?” he asked.

Delilah turned her head to look at the picture of the smiling family, she too recognized the play structure in the background from the drive over. “Yeah, I think it might be.”

“Let’s head over there and check out some of the other locals, maybe they’ll have some information for us.”  Sam turned around and headed for the front door.

Delilah nodded, still staring at the picture, “Sam?”  He turned to look at her, “If the host mother is dead… What about the children?”

He had a sad, worried look in his eyes as he answered her, “I don’t know.”

Delilah took a deep breath.  She had to believe they were ok.  She and Sam were going to save them, as well as Jake and little Beccy and any other kids that might have fallen prey to these monsters.  She and Sam left the house, leaving an anonymous call with the Los Lunas PD expressing concern about a neighbour they hadn’t seen in a few days and then made their way to the park.

~


	5. Chapter 5

Going to the park had been a stroke of genius.  From the parents gathered there, they found out about the odd entertainment crew that had been at little Beccy’s birthday party.  They also heard about another neighbourhood family with a tragic death and grieving widow with two kids.  Although they hadn’t been at the birthday party, the kids did attend the same school as the other victims.  The changelings were spreading their reach, and so far, they could boast at least six children taken.  Sam had guessed that they might establish themselves through the kids’ entertainment and then spread through contact with other children.  If they got too much attention, they could just cut and run and start again in another town.  Not a bad little setup…  for children killing monsters.

They had gone back to the motel, taking a slight detour to a hardware store, armed with a business card and some ‘camping gear’.  Sam showed her how to make a flame thrower using mostly a small propane bottle… and duct tape.

They had tried to call the number on the business card but it was out of order.  It had felt like they had hit a dead end, but then Delilah remembered the bouncy castle.  One of the dads from the park had shown her some pictures from the party, and although at the time she had been looking at the various kids in the photographs, recognizing little Beccy Malbourne, Jake Drummond and the Palacio children, she also remembered seeing a rather large inflatable structure the kids were running in and out of.  That kind of equipment needed to be transported and stored when not in use.  So, they had started looking for unused warehouses in the area.  They had found five within a reasonable distance of the neighbourhood, keeping in mind that these monsters had to kidnap the kids from their homes and bring them back to the mother changeling before themselves returning in place of the kidnapped children.

After a quick outfit change into more practical clothing and a drive-through run for sustenance, they had started checking locations off their list with little on-site inspections.  They were on their fourth warehouse, and so far, no luck.

They pulled up to the large, grey building, a huge ‘for lease’ sign hanging at an angle covering some of the broken windows.  Sam and Delilah got out of the car, keeping their eyes on the semi-abandoned real-estate in front of them.  There was a tarp hanging over a large, square-ish shape next to the building.  Delilah closed her door, trying to figure out what it could be when the breeze picked up, making a corner flap and revealing a wheel and front fender.

“Sam,” she said, pointing to it.

He nodded at her and together they moved up to the hidden truck, looking all around in case something was trying to creep up on them.  Delilah grabbed the edge of the tarp and lifted it above her head.  The writing on the side of the cube truck confirmed their suspicions; they had found the nest.  Her heart rate increased as she imagined she could hear the children held captive and calling out for help.  She dropped the tarp and looked at the building beside them: broken windows and streaked walls.  No one would come looking here.  Sam grabbed her elbow and pulled her back towards the car.  He opened the trunk and pulled out their arsenal, including the two homemade flame throwers.

“Ok,” he started, looking completely serious and focused as he tucked weapons and various tools wherever they could fit on both of them, “When we get in there, I’m going to go after the mother.  I need you to find the kids and get them the hell out of there.”

Delilah nodded, “Is it good to split up though?  Shouldn’t we stick together in case one of us gets… you know…  in case we need help?”  She was having a hard time letting go of the habits she had picked up with Dean.

Sam frowned at her, “We can do that, if you want.  But we’ll cover more ground separately.”

Delilah took a deep breath, trying to find her courage and strength from all those months ago when she had started hunting alone.  She couldn’t help but feel that maybe, that independence had been beaten and cut out of her.  She looked towards the warehouse warily, taking steadying breaths.

“Hey,” Sam’s gentle voice pulled her back towards him and he leaned down holding her shoulders, “You can do this.  Those kids need us ok?  They’re our number one priority.”

They needed her.  Sam needed her.  Those kids and their families needed her.  She started feeling the determination flooding her system and she took a deep breath, looked Sam square in the eye, and nodded.  He let go of her shoulders, giving her a firm nod back and slammed the trunk shut.

They moved towards the truck again, looking around them for a way to access the building.  Sam tapped her shoulder and pointed to a broken window pane above some stacked wooden crates.  Delilah looked up and started climbing onto the crates carefully, trying to keep the noise to a minimum.  At the top of the pile, she examined the broken window; there were no jagged glass pieces along the edges of the frame.  She pulled a flashlight out of her back pocket and turned it on as she looked inside the dark building.  There was a similar set of crate steps stacked against the inside wall.  This was clearly how they had been getting in and out of the place.

She turned and gave Sam a thumbs up, and he climbed up to her, making it look much easier with his long limbs than it had been for her.  Sam turned on his own flashlight and climbed into the window and down the crates on the other side.  All Delilah could see of him, by the time he reached the ground, was the beam of light as it swept around the cavernous room.  Delilah held both her flashlight and her flame thrower in one hand, and started carefully climbing down into the building.  This will slow the escape with the kids later, she worried.

Sam and Delilah moved forward into the dark warehouse, tall shelves dividing the place into sections.  They made their way down an aisle, looking all around them, ever ready for a surprise attack by the changelings.  They reached the end of a row, the wall ahead forcing them either left or right.  Sam pointed to her then to the right, and he pointed to himself and left.  This is where they were splitting up.  Delilah nodded once, lit up by his flashlight and then turned her head and body right, holding tight to the makeshift flame thrower and ready to burn any creature that tried to attack her.  She headed down along the wall, turning her flashlight right every time she passed another row, looking as far as she could and straining her ears listening for the children.

Then she spotted something down one of the rows.  All the rows so far had been neat and tidy, some the shelves containing stock, but mostly empty.  This row had a stack of crates, just like at the entrance to the place.  She decided it warranted a closer look.  She drew level with the first crate, making doubly sure that nothing was moving on all sides around her.  The top was open and pushed aside.  She could see that inside, there was an assortment of party supplies, like balloons, streamers, knick-knack party favours and such.  She had found the rest of their equipment she figured.

Then she heard it.  A soft, quiet sob coming from her left.  She aimed the flashlight in the direction of the sound, but only saw more crates.  She didn’t move, listening again.

“Ssh, Beccy, she could be close.  I don’t want her getting mad at you.”

“But I thought I saw a light,” said a tiny, sweet voice.

“Sssshh!”

Delilah’s heart both rejoiced and sank at the same time.  Objective complete, she found them!  They were inside the crates.  Now to get them out without getting the mother changeling’s attention.  She moved closer to the talking crates and swept her light over them, trying to figure out what made them different.  Most of the crates were like the first one, partially open, packed with straw and various entertainment odds and ends, but a few were still sealed tightly, the lids nailed down, and still more were just empty.  She drew closer to one of the sealed crates and noticed two rows of evenly spaced 4” holes.  One at the top of the crate and one at the bottom.  Breathing holes.  Delilah shone her light at one of the holes and she heard a moan from inside.  She leaned up against the box quickly to look inside.  She was hit first by the smell and recoiled, the kids made to sit in their own filth.  She looked again and saw a child, sitting huddled in the box, hiding his eyes from the light.  Delilah’s heart was pumping fast.

“Hang on kids, I’m getting you out of here,” she started, but suddenly, the noises of movement and complaint coming from the crates were loud in the cavernous silence of the warehouse, “Sssh, I need you guys to be quiet!  The monster can’t know we’re here yet!”

What should she do?  She glanced around and saw the crowbar on the shelf beside a hammer.  Ok, tools!  But how does she pry off the tops of these crates without calling the changeling right to her?

She pulled out her cell phone and texted Sam.

_Found the kids.  Need a distraction so I can get them out._

She waited anxiously for a reply, looking around skittishly, almost resolving to call Sam, when suddenly, from the other end of the warehouse, she heard a loud crashing sound.  The kids stifled screams and Delilah decided that was her cue.  She grabbed the crowbar off the shelf and jammed it between the lid and the side of the first crate, pushing down on the bar, prying off the top and flipping the bar to get more leverage to get the whole thing off.

The first child popped his head out, wincing at the light from her flashlight.  He was maybe 10 years old but he didn’t look familiar.  He must be one of the kids that weren’t at the party.  Delilah helped him get out of the box.

“What’s your name, kid?” Delilah asked him quietly, as she turned to look at the next box.

“Who are you?”  he asked her suspiciously.

“I’m Delilah.  My friend and I have been looking for you guys.  Your parents are worried.”

“What about the monster?”

“My friend Sam...” Suddenly another resounding crash was heard with an accompanying shout.  It sounded like Sam had found the changeling.  Delilah was itching to go help him, but the kids were the first priority. “My friend Sam is taking care of the monster.  But I have to get you and your friends out of here.  Can you help me?  What’s your name?” she asked again.

“I’m Dylan.”

“Ok Dylan,” Delilah handed him her flashlight, “I need you to point that at the crates got it?”

“Dylan, who is that?” a voice from inside the crates asked.

Dylan moved to the crate, now holding the flashlight, “It’s ok.  She’s here to help us. But we have to stay quiet.”

Delilah continued to hear more steady fighting sounds.  Sam was clearly struggling with the changeling.  Why hadn’t he set it on fire yet, damnit?  Delilah applied herself to her task, quickly jamming and prying the crowbar in the crates, and pulling off the lids.  Inside the second crate, Delilah recognized the curly blond pigtails of Rebecca Malbourne.  She popped out of the box, Dylan helping her over the lip of the crate as Delilah moved on to the next.

“I know her!” she squeaked, staring at Delilah.  Delilah turned to her while prying open the next crate, “She’s Jake’s friend!  She was at my house, talking to daddy.”

Delilah almost choked.  If Beccy knew her, that meant the changeling had nabbed her the same day she had come investigating, maybe only hours after she had left!  She shook herself and headed for the next crate as more heads popped out of the boxes and climbed out, helped by Dylan.  So far, Delilah counted five kids and she still hadn’t found Jake or the Palacio children.  She opened the next crate and was going to move on, but when no head popped out, she looked back.  Dylan had come closer, shining the light inside and Delilah’s heart twisted.  The child inside was looking rail thin and didn’t seem to be moving.  She put the bar down, still hearing sounds of struggle down at the other end of the warehouse, and reached inside the crate.  The boy felt warm, and she sighed in relief when he moved.  He was alive, but very weak.  He looked at her and the blue eyes from Jake Drummond’s file picture blinked.

“Come on Jake.  I know you’re tired, but grab my arm, I’ll get you out of there.”

He reached up, and Delilah pulled him out carefully, sliding an arm under his butt and lifting him free of the wooden cage.  She cradled him against her and she was alarmed at how light he was.  He weighed barely more than a sack of feathers.  She sat him down on top of one of the supply crates and moved on.  There were only a few crates left.  The next two were empty, but the last two weren’t.  Delilah looked down at the bodies of the Palacio children and when she touched them, she knew that they were long gone.  Her heart was in her throat as she looked down at the little bodies, bone thin, their matching Minion pyjamas too baggy on their corpses.  Delilah shed a tear.

Something tugged on her sleeve.  “Miss Delilah.  Can we go home?”

She turned to look at the little blond Beccy, holding on to her sleeve and then to the other children huddling together and Jake, barely keeping himself sitting.  Dylan still held her flashlight, looking scared, but holding on to another kid’s hand protectively.

“Ok. Let’s get you safe ok?” The six kids nodded, standing and sitting in their pyjamas and looking pale and worn.  “It’s going to be important to stay quiet, and if I tell you to hide, you need to do it, right away.”

“Like at school!” chipped in Beccy, “When the message comes on.”

“That’s right Bex, just like the drills at school,” confirmed Dylan.

“Dylan, if something happens to me, there’s a stack of boxes under a window at the front of the building.  It’s the way out.” He nodded, wide eyed.  “I’m counting on you to get them out ok?”

“Got it.”

Delilah took a deep breath, and was suddenly worried that she could no longer hear fighting.  Either Sam had beaten it, or else... She would worry about it after. Priority one, save the children.  She picked up Jake in her arms again and rested him on her hip as he held her around the neck and shoulders with his weak arms.  She guided the group of kids down the aisle, matching her speed to theirs.

Suddenly, a loud clatter sounded only a few aisles over, the kids stifled cries behind their hands and Delilah crouched down, Dylan imitating her and the others imitating him.  She heard Sam’s muffled groan as another clatter reached their ears and she moved on, satisfied Sam was still keeping the changeling distracted, even if he hadn’t killed it yet.  They made it to the crates under the window, light from a streetlamp outside shining in.

“Ok, Dylan, you go first and I’ll hand the other ones up to you.”

He scrambled up the crates to the second from the top and Delilah passed him Jake first.  Jake could barely hold on as Dylan pulled him up and then helped him out the window, while Delilah pushed up Beccy next.  He came back inside and grabbed Beccy to bring her through the window too, and again until all the kids were out.  Delilah looked back at the silent warehouse worried for Sam.  Priority one, Delilah!  Feeling nauseous, she climbed up the crates and out the window, joining the kids as they made their way down the other side.  She snatched up Jake and headed straight for the car, followed closely by the other children, running now that they were in a lit up area.

Delilah opened the passenger door and tipped the seat forward.  “Alright guys, get in.”  The five kids scrambled into the back seat of the Dodge Dart, Beccy sitting on Dylan and two others doubling up too.  Delilah put the seat back and set Jake down on it.

“Ok.  It’s almost over.  I’ll be back.”

The kids all started protesting at once, but Dylan was the loudest, “Where you going? You can’t leave us!”

“I have to go help my friend!  You’ll be safe here ok?  But I have to go back.”

She took her flashlight back and shut the door.

Back inside the warehouse, everything was silent.  She climbed down the crates, flashlight in hand listening for Sam.  She had put down the flame thrower when she got the kids out, and only just now realized she had left it behind.  The warehouse eerily quiet, she headed back to the aisle she had found the kids in to get her weapon, drawing one of the knives Sam had given her in the meantime.  She looked at the long blade and thought that Sam was right.  She’d have to learn to shoot a gun, she really didn’t want to get within stabbing distance of this thing.

A vibration in her pocket got her attention as she drew up to the crates and grabbed her flame thrower, the warehouse still silent.  She pulled her phone out of her pocket hurriedly.

_Kids safe?_

Delilah was relieved.  If he could text, he was fine.  He had also given her an idea to get the monster.  She tucked away the knife, and quickly texted him back and looked around her for a good place to ambush the monster.  She looked up at the empty shelves and grinned.

She put down the flashlight, still on, on top of one of the crates she had opened, pointing the light towards the other ones, then as quietly as she could, she climbed up onto the shelves until she was just above eye level of the standard person.  She tucked herself into the back of the shelf and clicked her phone screen back on.  Quickly scrolling through the options, she got to her list of ring tones.  She took a deep breath and pushed on one, sliding the phone away from her along the shelf as it began to ring loudly, amplified by the metallic shelving.  She heard a woman’s cry a few aisles over and braced herself, pressing into the back of the shelf, as the phone stopped ringing.  A cry of outrage rang out a few feet down the aisle to her left as a woman came running towards the opened crates.  She screamed, “Hunters!” And looked around frantically.  Delilah stretched her arms out silently towards the edge of the shelf, holding the propane torch in one hand and her Zippo in the other.

“Hey shitface!” she yelled, surprising the changeling as she turned towards the sound.

Delilah pulled back on the homemade trigger, releasing the gas and flicking the stone on her lighter, the spark and flame igniting the propane right into the monster’s face.  She screamed and recoiled out of the flame’s reach, but Sam had crept up to her from the left and set off his flame thrower dousing her in fire as she continued to scream.  Delilah scrambled out of the shelf and jumped down, re-lighting her torch and joining her stream of fire to his as the changeling burned to nothing, the fire suddenly going out like a spent candle.

Delilah released the handle and the flame died away as Sam extinguished his own weapon and they were left in the relative darkness of the flashlight.  Delilah was breathing heavily, her heart still hammering in her chest as she stared at the spot where the changeling had stood.  She turned to Sam who was looking unharmed if a little dishevelled.  She smiled at him, happy that he was ok.

“Did we find all of them?” he asked her, sounding tired.

Delilah’s smile fell and she turned to the crates that had held the children, “I found six of them, including Beccy and Jake, but…”

She couldn’t get the rest of the words out.  She just gestured to the crates containing the bodies of the Palacio children.  Sam stepped forward and cringed when he saw what was in there, Delilah remembering the little Minion pyjamas, the bodies curled on their sides facing each other through the sides of the crates, like they were talking to each other at the end.

“What do we do with them, Sam?” she asked, her voice small, “Both their parents are dead, but maybe they have other family.  They would want to know what happened to them.”

Sam turned to her, his face set in pain. “Even if they do, what are we supposed to tell them?”

“I don’t know Sam, I just…  we can’t leave them here.”

“You’re right, but all we can do is make sure they don’t come back as spirits.”

Delilah’s eyes widened, he couldn’t possibly mean… “Sam, are you saying we have to… b-burn them?”

Sam nodded, looking back into the crates solemnly.  “I’ll take care of it.”

Delilah stared at him, motionless, understanding the need for the disposal of the bodies, but put off by Sam’s calm demeanour.  How many cases had ended like this for him… and for Dean?  Delilah scaled the shelves to get her phone back and grabbed the flashlight off the crate.  She followed Sam out of the warehouse and to the car.  Kids pressed themselves to the windows as they came nearer, their eyes round like silver dollars.  Delilah opened the passenger door, picking up Jake like she was in a trance and sitting him down on her lap as she settled into the seat, watching Sam head back inside the warehouse carrying a box of salt.  She held Jake closely, rocking him in the quietness of the car full of real children, numbed to the bones by their ordeal.

 

Delilah was lying in bed at the motel staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the shower running.  She went over the night’s events in her mind again.

They had dropped off the children at their homes.  She had watched Sam exchange a few words with confused and relieved parents as she sat with Jake still cradled in her arms.  They had decided to drop him off at the hospital ER.  They put him in a wheelchair and left him near a nursing station.  The amber alert still being in effect, it would not take them long to identify him and return him to the care of CPS.  Sam and Delilah had walked back out, keeping their heads down to avoid any issues.

Sam came out of the bathroom dressed in sweat pants and drying his hair with a towel.  He sat down on the edge of his bed facing her.  “You alright?” he asked her, his voice ever caring even though he was clearly exhausted.

She marvelled that Sam could care about anything at this point, how had this life not made him into a cold, hard person?

“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked, keeping her eyes on his face as he answered her.

“Jake?” She nodded. He looked up at the ceiling, “They’ll take care of him at the hospital until he’s well enough to be released.  Then, I guess CPS will take charge of him again and make sure he’s put into the foster system, now that his mom is dead.”

Delilah swallowed hard and turned her head back towards the ceiling, feeling the tears slip out of the corners.  She could feel Sam watching her and she turned her head away towards the window.  She heard the bedsprings shift, as Sam stood from his bed, seconds before her own mattress sank.

“Scoot,” he said, when she looked back his way, startled.  She moved to the edge of the double bed and Sam lay down on his back, slipping his arm behind her head and pulling her into his side.  Delilah relaxed into his hold, resting her head on his shoulder and her arm on his bare chest.  It felt so intimate, yet at the same time, there was no weirdness, or sexual vibe whatsoever.  This was just Sam comforting a friend.

She cleared her throat, “I just worry about him, growing up without a family.  Who will take care of him?”

He squeezed her shoulder, “You know, you and I both lost our moms too… And we turned out ok.”

Delilah let out a surprised breath and laughed skeptically, she tilted her head back to look at him and saw the small smile on his face.  “Sure Sam.  We’re models of perfect mental health and adjustment.”

She settled her head back into the dip of his arm and chest and smiled sadly.  She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as he continued to talk, “No, you’ll see.  CPS will find him a good home, with a good family, and he’ll grow up happy, surrounded by friends and people who love him.”

Delilah’s eyelids started closing, her exhausted mind lulled to sleep by the rumble in his chest and the sweet portrait of family life he was painting for her.  She was just on the edge of sleep when he trailed off and Delilah couldn’t help but whisper, “And he’ll live happily ever after,” as her brain shut down for the small remainder of the night.

 

Delilah woke up with the sun shining in through the open curtains of the window.  She was warm all over and she just wanted to bask in the moment before getting up.  She noticed a strange weight on her hip and she glanced down to see a long arm draped over her and resting on the mattress.  She turned around carefully and was met by Sam’s sleeping face on the pillow.  His hair was over his face, his mouth slightly opened as he gently breathed in and out.  Even with the beard stubble and sharp angles, sleeping like this, without any worries wrinkling his forehead, he looked so young.  She knew they were the same age, but in that moment he looked no older than a child.  She smiled and couldn’t resist sweeping back his unruly hair away from his face.  She watched as some of it fell back, obscuring his closed eye again.  On a whim, she leaned up and kissed him on the forehead.  Then, she carefully lifted his arm and slipped out of his sleepy hold.

She decided to take another shower before they had to hit the road.  When she came back out, Sam was sitting on the edge of her bed, yawning and stretching his long arms and torso.  She indulged in the sight of his muscles flexing.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed jokingly, fanning herself dramatically with her hand, “You put those away or I’m gonna have to go back in there and take a cold shower.”

Sam let out a shy chuckle and stood up.  “Sorry about the invasion there.  I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Delilah looked down timidly, “That’s alright, Sam.  It was kinda comforting… waking up next to you.”

She frowned, not sure what these feelings were that she was experiencing.  With Dean, everything was so intense: happiness, excitement, anger, betrayal, she felt them like a punch to the gut and could identify them easily enough, most of the time.  With Sam, it was so much more subdued, like a little tingling all over, a feather-light feeling of well-being.  She smiled at him as he walked past, yawning again, and disappeared into the bathroom.

She got dressed quickly, throwing on her spare jeans and a blue t-shirt, zipping up her black hoodie over it.  She fished for her phone in last night’s jeans and was shocked to see it was almost noon.  When Sam got out of the washroom, they decided to walk over to the Denny’s one last time before heading back up to the bunker.  Everything felt so fresh and beautiful with the sun shining and the monsters taken care of, Delilah couldn’t help but feel happy.

They were packing up, getting ready to go, putting another town to their rudder.  Delilah finished picking up her stray belongings and put them into her travel bag.  Sam picked up his own duffel, frowning as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Garth!”

Delilah turned around.  He was staring at his phone, a surprised look on his face, “Who?”

Sam looked up at her, his eyes wide and his mouth a thin straight line.

“We gotta go.”  He turned and walked out of the motel room.

Delilah scrambled after him, grabbing her travel case and messenger bag on her way out.  She caught up to Sam at the car and threw her case into the trunk.  He had already started the engine when she flopped into the passenger seat.

“Where the hell are we going Sam?”

“Wisconsin.”

⭐


	6. Part 4 - Freakin' Wisconsin

The late-morning sun was high above the road as Delilah rolled into Grantsburg, Wisconsin.  It had been a bitch of a drive – almost 22 hours, stopping only for gas, food and the call of nature.  Sam had explained to her on the first leg of the journey that a friend of his, Garth, had gone missing back in May.  Garth was also a hunter and had been left in charge of guarding Kevin, back before they had found the bunker.  One day, he simply vanished, no calls, no clues.  Sam had just received through his hacked police wire, a notice on a John Doe up in Wisconsin, the picture was Garth, no doubt about it, so they hauled ass out of New Mexico.

She didn’t know quite what to make of Sam right now.  He just dropped everything and high tailed it across the whole country, because he saw the picture of a guy he knew.  It was slightly unsettling to her, as well, knowing that if it had been her picture on the police wire, he would have done the same.

Delilah twisted in the driver’s seat long enough the tap Sam on the leg.  He had been passed out back there for nearly six hours.  It had taken a bit of convincing on Delilah’s part, the guy was so on edge about Garth, but she finally wrangled him into the backseat and ordered him to rest up.  It was actually almost irritating how barely 10 minutes later he was already out cold, snoring softly, his head resting on her bag like a pillow.  She was amazed he even fit back there.

He woke up, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.

“Motel or hospital?” she asked him, as he yawned.

“Motel.  I need to change into my suit before I go.”

“Motel it is then.”

Delilah pulled into the parking lot of the Grantsburg Inn – a large, yellow log building with rooms on two floors.  She yawned as she shifted the car into neutral and pulled on the handbrake.

“I’ll get the room,” Sam said as he extricated himself from the back seat of the two door Dart.

Delilah gave him a thumbs up and tiredly got out of the car to stretch.  She folded her arms on the roof of the car, dropping her head to rest on them while she waited for Sam to return.  He was back in no time and they grabbed their bags out of the trunk and headed to the second floor using the stairs.  They walked into the room and Delilah collapsed onto the first bed by the door.

“I’m going to head out to the hospital, see what’s going on with Garth.” Sam said from the other side of the room.

“Mmmmmm,” Delilah answered.

“You should stay here, get some sleep.”

“Mmmmmm, great idea,” she mumbled into the pillow as she curled her arms under it, snuggling closer.

She barely heard the door close behind Sam as she slipped into sleep.

 

She woke up a few hours later feeling recharged.  She hopped into the shower, determined to join Sam at the hospital to get a look at this friend of his.  She quickly got dressed, pulling on her jeans and a long sleeved black and grey baseball tee.  She grabbed her phone and looked up the hospital on her GPS, it was a mere fifteen-minute walk from the motel.  Delilah threw on her jean jacket, she stuck her feet into her Dr. Martens, tucking Sam’s silver knife into the right one, hiding the handle up her jean leg, and she slung her messenger bag across her shoulders, checking that her hunting knife was still in the back pocket.  Armed to the teeth, she locked the motel door behind her, stuck the key into the front pocket of her bag and walked out onto the road headed East.

She made a quick stop at the “Wake Up Call” coffee shop next door and got herself a coffee and a cinnamon bun before moving on down the road and turning north at the next intersection.

She arrived in the hospital emergency zone parking lot and threw out her empty coffee cup, wiping the crumbs from around her mouth.  She turned the corner, going around a parked ambulance, glancing around her to make sure there were no cars.  Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she looked back towards the emergency entrance and nearly ran headlong into someone she knew very well.

His hair was a little longer and his jaw was covered in slightly longer whiskers than usual, softening his angular jaw slightly, but the green eyes were the same as they always were, if a little surprised.  Dean stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes running all over her, the same way she was scanning him, all in the split second since they spotted each other.  He was holding his phone to his ear with one hand and holding a large yellow envelope in the other.  All the emotions in her went wild, pulling her brain in ten different directions as she stood there frozen – happy, angry, sad, excited, lustful, scared… The storm was raging.  He spoke into the phone with his achingly familiar gruff voice, not taking his eyes off her.

“If Garth wants to stay gone, he’s gone.”  Delilah’s logical side kicked in, shutting up her emotions in a box for the time being.  She glanced at the papers in Dean’s hand, catching a glimpse of a photo before he lowered it out of sight.  “Well, what can I say Sammy?  We lost this one.”

So, Dean knew Sam was in town.  She snatched the folder out of his hand and he narrowed his eyes at her in an annoyed glare.  She looked at the black and white security camera picture of the scrawny man in his boxers.  He was turned towards the hospital, and Delilah recognized him from the John Doe notice Sam had received.

“Send me a postcard,” Dean said into his phone, then he hit the end button and put it in his pocket.  He held out his hand towards her, “I’ll have those back now.”

She leafed through some of the other pictures in her hands, they showed Garth getting into a car in the parking lot, “Wow!  Make, model, licence plate…. Why are you lying to Sam?”

Dean looked away, “I already told him, we can’t hunt together.”  He looked right at her again, “It’s for his own good. What are you doing here anyhow?”

She looked up at him from below her eyebrows, annoyed.  “I’m here to help Sam.  We were in New Mexico when the John Doe came in.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, his eyes round like coins, “You’re hunting together.”  It was more a statement than a question but Delilah responded anyways.

“Yeah Dean, we’re hunting together.  Is that a problem?”

“Problem? No, not a problem.  How is Sammy enjoying the uh… fringe benefits?” Dean smiled at her suggestively, but his eyes remained cold, detached.

Delilah ruffled at what he was implying about her and his brother.  Angrily, she told him, “I dunno, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”  She knew she was just pouring gas on the flame, but she couldn’t help it.

“Oh, a lady!  Is that what you are?  I would’ve used a different word.”  His face darkened, all traces of the smile gone.

“Fuck you, Dean.”  She slapped the envelope with the pictures to his chest.  “I assume you know who owns the vehicle and where we can find them?”  She turned around and started walking towards the black Impala that she could now see parked behind the cedar hedge, pulling out her cell phone from her pocket.

“Ride belongs to a girl named Bess Meyers.  She lives in the next town over.”

Delilah texted the information to Sam then opened the passenger door of the Impala.

“Well, let’s go then.”

“No.  You’re not coming.  Get out of the car Delilah.”

She glared at him over the top of the sleek black car, one foot inside already, “Make me.”

Then she sat down and slammed the door shut, feeling like a rambunctious child and hating it.

They pulled up to an apartment building twenty minutes later.  Delilah had fiddled with her tablet the whole time to avoid another confrontation with Dean and to be honest, also trying to ignore the back flipping butterflies reacting to the spicy scent wafting over her.  He stared straight ahead, a frown permanently etched onto his face.

“Fan-freakin-tastic,” he muttered to himself.

Delilah looked up and saw the blue Dodge Dart parked in front of the building and Sam leaning against it, looking angry as hell.  Dean parked beside him and he and Delilah both got out.  Sam called out to his brother, “Just what the hell are you doing Dean?”

“Damnit Sam, we can’t hunt together.  I got this, so you can just take her,” he paused, gesturing towards her, “go home and have a happy apple pie life.”

Delilah walked over to where Sam was standing and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’re you going on about?” Sam asked Dean confused.

“Oh!  Dean figured out that we’re sleeping together,” Delilah said glaring at Dean, who had the decency to at least look awkward, “because, you know, I’m nothing but a two bit whore.”

Sam looked down at her, she had no idea what he saw in her face but when he looked at his brother again his voice was calm but firm, “You’re a fucking idiot, Dean.”

Dean looked down at his feet and shifted uncomfortably, “Look, this is just wasting time.  I’m going in there, and I’m not leaving until Garth tells me why he went M.I.A. six months ago.”

“Agreed, but we’re coming too,” Sam said.

“No Sam.  We’re not going over this again.”

“I hear you,” Sam responded, looking serious, “And after we find Garth and get to the bottom of this I’m gone.  But until then, no more games.”  His voice was smooth and steady, but Delilah could tell he was upset, he was grinding his teeth, making his jaw bulge.

Dean seemed to consider this for a moment, then answered, “Fine.  Let’s get this over with.”

The three of them made their way into the building, Dean taking the lead followed by Sam, and Delilah bringing up the rear.  As they went up the stairs, Dean pulled his gun out from the back of his pants and Sam did the same thing.  Delilah pulled her hunting knife out of her bag holding it by her hip.

Dean and Sam moved to either side of one of the doors, Dean silently gesturing to Sam what they were going to do, and signalling her to hang back.  She flattened herself against the hallway wall and nodded.

With one wood splintering kick, Dean broke open the door and the two brothers moved in quickly, guns pointing inside the room.  Delilah heard a voice from inside that she didn’t recognize, it was male, with a Tennessee accent.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!  Hey, guys.” His voice became a little shaky, “I can explain.  Everything’s cool.  Just a simple misunderstanding.”

Delilah heard Dean respond, “Who you talking to?”

“What?” answered Tennessee.

“The girl?” asked Dean.

Both Winchesters were out of her line of sight now, having entered the room.  She started to feel nervous, straining her ear so she wouldn’t miss anything, so she could help if they needed it.

“Wh-what girl?”  There was a pause then he started again, “What the…. What now?”

Someone must have cut him off because he was quiet.  Delilah would dearly love to be in there and know what was going on.  She couldn’t hear Sam and Dean anymore, only the Tennessee voice, she assumed was Garth, continuing to stall and stutter.

“Alright, alright.  Guys, everyone needs to take a chill pill and put their guns down.” Another pause, “You see?  Let’s all be grown-ups here and have an adult conversation.”

There was another slight pause, then suddenly Delilah heard growling coming from inside the apartment.  She tensed as she heard sounds of struggling and then a woman’s voice in pain.

“Sam!” Garth said, much closer to the door now, “Sam please, don’t hurt her.”

“What’re you doing?!” Dean burst out, angrily, “She’s a werewolf!”

Delilah did not hesitate, she bent down, pulling the silver knife from her boot and charged around the open door on silent feet.  She briefly noticed both Sam and Dean aiming their guns at a blond woman who had her back to Delilah.  She jumped at her, grabbing her around the neck with one arm, immobilizing her head and swinging her other arm, holding the silver blade, around her, aimed right at her heart.

“No! Stop!” Garth cried out.  Delilah hesitated, the knife less than an inch from the werewolf’s chest and he turned to Sam and Dean, “So am I.”

Looks of shock crept onto both Sam and Dean’s faces.  Garth turned back around to look at the blond werewolf that Delilah was still holding at silver point.  His eyes were soft and kind and he silently pleaded with her to not hurt her.  Delilah frowned, confused, but seeing Sam and Dean lowering their guns, she threw her arms to the side wide, holding the blade away and took a step back.

As soon as she did, the lanky crane-like hunter/werewolf took the blonde’s hand in his, concern and caring etched all over his face as he examined a cut on her arm.  One of the Winchesters must have cut her with silver before she came in.  Delilah looked over to Sam and Dean and saw her own uncertainty mirrored in their faces.

The werewolves moved over to the couch, and sat down.  Dean and Sam moved to stand in front of them, the coffee table between the two pairs.  Delilah shut the apartment door as best she could with the splintered frame, and stood on Sam’s left.

“Dean,” said Garth, “There’s gauze in the medical kit in the bathroom… Would you?”

Dean straightened his shoulders, opening his mouth without saying anything, obviously not sure what to make of the whole situation.  Delilah, who was closest to the bathroom answered, “S’ok, I got it.”

It was like a weird dream for her…  Treating potentially violent and dangerous creatures like colleagues, friends… People!  She could only imagine what it was like for Sam and Dean.  One of their friends, someone she helped Sam drive cross-country to find, was a werewolf.  She found the med kit under the sink and brought him a 4x4 gauze pad, quickly retreating to her spot beside Sam.  Garth smiled at her, a genuine smile of thanks, and he tore open the paper wrapping and applied the gauze to the blonde’s cut.

“It’s ok, Baby.  Hold it like that,” he said in his mellow, Tennessee accent.

She looked into his eyes, worried, “What are they doing here, Garth?”

“They’re friends, I promise.”

“They’re hunters.”

She had a surprisingly sweet voice.  Delilah looked back and forth during the exchange, not able to shake the dream-like quality of the scene… Was this for real? Or was she still sleeping in the motel room?  The only thing she knew for sure was that Sam and Dean both looked just as confused and slightly horrified at the situation as she felt.

Garth turned and looked at all of them gathered around the room.  “Alright.  We’ve all gotten off on the wrong foot here.” He had an unshakeable air of good humour, like a permanent half smile on his face that Delilah found so charming, it was easy to believe him.  She kept having to remind herself that he had just told them he was a werewolf.  He went on, “Let’s do things right.  Boys, this is Bess… my beloved.” He laid his hand on her shoulder gently and smiled at her.  Sam and Dean exchanged a look as Garth went on, “And Bess, that’s Dean.  Now he could start a fight in an empty house,” he said with a smile as Dean frowned at him, “but deep down inside he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear.”  Delilah nearly snorted as she tried to hold back a laugh.  “And Sam here… Sam can be a bit insecure at times but for good reason, bless his heart.”  Sam’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.  “And this,” he said looking right at Delilah, expectantly.

“Delilah,” she found herself telling him, bemused.

He smiled at her “Delilah.  I don’t know Delilah, but if she’s with Sam and Dean, then she must be a good, kind hearted person.”

Who was this guy?  Sam looked at her, shrugging his shoulders as she shook her head slowly, dumbfounded.

Dean spoke up, “That’s sweet,” he said sarcastically, “Werewolf?!”

Delilah and the boys listened as Garth told his story; a tale of hunting and mistakes during which he was bitten by a werewolf.  He had resolved to kill himself, knowing there was no cure, when Bess found him… She had smelled him.  Delilah couldn’t help the creep factor chill that ran down her spine.  Animals Delilah, not humans.

“We’ve been married for four months now.” Garth finished.

“You’re married?” Sam asked skeptically.

“To a werewolf.” Dean added, mad.

“Yes,” Bess answered in her delicate voice, “and my pack has taken him in as one of our own.”

Dean turned and glared at Garth, but he shook his head, “Guys, it’s not what you think.  We don’t hurt people.”

“No, you just go all wolverine on cattle,” fumed Dean.

“Yeah,” answered Garth in a small voice.

“At least he’s not eating human hearts.  Do you have any idea how hard it is for a Bitten to control his instincts like Garth does?” Bess pleaded with them to understand, “How well he’s doing?”

“Thank you Baby.”

“Well it’s the truth Honey Bunny.”

Were these people for real? Delilah thought again, almost nauseated.

“Wait,” said Sam, “A Bitten?” He let out a bemused chuckle, “You’re all bitten.”

“Not at all,” Bess explained, “You’re either born to it, like I was or you’re bitten, like Garth.”

The talk about werewolf origin went on as Delilah scrambled mentally to store the information away for later analysis: friendly werewolves, bitten or born, all of this directly from the source; from a couple of werewolf honeymooners.  The whole thing was surreal.

Dean sent Bess away so they could talk with Garth alone.  He obviously wasn’t convinced that everything was fine with this story.  Garth explained that everything checked out with the pack: they were clean, they didn’t hurt people.

“Right, minus the part where your wife attacked me,” Sam burst out angrily.

“Yeah, because you two came bustin’ in here like a house on fire!” responded Garth, “Guns waving, the jawlines and the hair… It’s very intimidating.”  If the circumstances had been different, Delilah would have burst out laughing, jawlines and hair indeed, but he was dead serious, “What’d you expect?”  He looked at the three of them earnestly, then turned back to the older Winchester, “Dean, no one wants any trouble.  You got my word on that.”

Dean gave him a look like he couldn’t believe what Garth was trying to say, “Oh no, that ship has sailed.  We’re gonna need a hell of a lot more than your word.”

Garth looked pensive for a moment then said, “Okay, you want proof? Come pray with us.”

Dean’s face went through a series of expressions, first frowning then looking around bewildered as he registered the obviously novel idea of prayerful werewolves.  Sam looked equally amazed.  Dean rubbed his face with his hand and looked at Garth.  He agreed to come check it out the next day.  Dean and Sam took their leave and Delilah turned to follow them out the door when Garth said her name.  She turned back to look at him again apprehensively.  She noticed Sam and Dean had stopped too.

“I’m sorry we had to meet under such quaint circumstances,” Quaint? Delilah thought… Not the word she would’ve used.  “But,” he went on, “I’d dearly love to get to know you.  It’s a very special lady that can win this guy’s heart right here.”

Garth pointed to someone behind her and she turned around confused.  Dean had a matching look on his face, “What?” he said.

“What?” Delilah repeated turning back to Garth.

He gave them both an infuriatingly knowing smile. “Please come tomorrow.”

Delilah didn’t respond, she just turned around and pushed her way past the wall of Winchesters and back down to the parking lot where the cars were waiting side by side, the sun setting on the horizon to her left.  She shook herself, physically wiping the goosebumps off her skin with her hands then letting out a frustrated growl.  Goddamn stupid creatures with their stupid super senses.  Castiel, and Garth and all those lunatics.  What could they possibly know?

The Winchesters joined her shortly and she regained her composure.  They agreed on a plan, Sam would check out the Sheriff’s office, get the scoop on any odd happenings in the area and Dean and Delilah would go meet the wolf pack in the morning.  It took a lot of convincing to have Dean agree to her going with him, but he was out voted.  Sam agreed that Dean should not be going alone to meet an unknown number of werewolves, and Delilah didn’t have the credentials to talk to the cops.  Dean had no choice.

Delilah and Sam got back into the Dart as Dean drove off in the Impala.  They headed into town to find some dinner, each eating quietly, Delilah contemplating everything that had happened in the last twelve hours: meeting her first werewolves – which both Sam and Dean had always described as vicious, killing animals – the confusing nature of Garth and his friendship with the boys – obviously, his charming personality was to blame, he was so genuine, it was hard not to like him… werewolf and all – and bumping into Dean again so unexpectedly.  Delilah had no idea how she felt about it – so much was going on with Garth and all the new information.  However, now that she was sitting quietly, she found her thoughts uncontrollably turning to Dean.  She was definitely angry with him, that was for sure, saying what he had said, but part of her wondered if Garth was right about him.  Could he have just said those things because he truly believed she would trade him in for his brother?  Was he jealous?  One thing’s for sure though, Sam was 100% right... Dean was a fucking idiot.

Delilah looked up at Sam.  He was picking at his fries and looking at something on his phone.  Sam. In the past couple of weeks, he had been there for her, helping her deal with her shit and move on just by showing her kindness and friendship.  Maybe it was time she return the favour.

“Are you ok, Sam?” she asked him gently.

He continued to look at his phone, “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, without looking up.

Delilah reached forward across the table and hesitatingly lay her hand over his.  He looked towards her.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Sam.  How’re you doing with everything?”

He sighed, putting down his phone, and leaned back against the booth’s plastic padded back.  “Honestly?” Sam flicked his gaze to her, she nodded encouragingly and he looked away again.  “I dunno.  I don’t know what I was expecting to find when I came looking for Garth.  I knew something must have happened for him to abandon us, abandon Kevin, but…” Sam’s voice trailed off.

Delilah scanned his face, trying to interpret his facial expressions, “I’m sorry Sam.  It must be hard seeing a hunter become what he hunts.”

He sighed loudly, running his hand through his hair in frustration, “That’s the other thing, I never read anywhere anything about werewolves having offspring, this whole born or bitten thing, it’s...” Sam leaned forward over the table again, looking right at her.  His eyes were intense, his features drawn tight with his worry, “And if what Bess says is true, and those born to it more easily control their urges, then there could be even more werewolves out there than we thought.”

“What about the part about them not hurting people?  Do you believe that?”

Sam sat back again, looking like a deflated balloon, crestfallen, “I don’t know,” he said sadly, “I mean, I want to believe it.  And we have come across friendly monsters before, but…” He looked up at her again, “These are werewolves.  I’ve only ever seen them be vicious, uncontrollable creatures.  Even when…” he trailed off, not finishing his sentence and looking away again, sorrow suffusing his face.

“What is it?”

He seemed to recover a little, but still looked away, “Even when the person is a good, kind person…” he said slowly, “When the wolf takes over, it can’t be controlled.”

Something dawned on her suddenly, “Garth isn’t the first person you know who became a werewolf,” she said, quietly, trying to understand a lifetime of experience from reading facial cues.

“No,” he breathed deeply looking down at the table, “But it was a long time ago.  Her name was Madison.”

Delilah felt crushed as she understood, in that one sentence, that Madison had been important to Sam, and that she was killed because she was a werewolf.  They lapsed into silence.  Delilah was kicking herself, this wasn’t what she had wanted to do!  She wanted to make Sam feel better, not worse!  Friends don’t make friends feel like shit!  Fuck.

“Thanks, Delilah.”

She looked across at Sam, confused.  He was smiling at her, albeit a little sadly.  “What for?” she asked him, utterly confused.

“For talking,” he said, “It feels good sometimes, to get things out there.  I never talked about Madison with anyone.  I mean, Dean was there, he knows, but,” he paused, “He and I don’t tend to talk about this stuff… Didn’t talk about…”

“If you never told anyone, why did you tell me?”  Delilah was a little scared of the answer, what if Sam said something that couldn’t be taken back? What if he said something that would force her to leave?  Feelings were a dangerous thing, what if his were more than these budding feelings of friendship?  He did actually fall asleep in her bed the night before.

Sam looked at her and smiled, “I don’t know why I told you.”

His smile stretched even wider, showing his teeth and lighting up his whole face.  Delilah realized he was repeating her words after she had told him about her past and she found herself smiling too.  They laughed together a few seconds, Delilah’s worry seeping out of her as she felt a warm glow in her stomach.  Sam leaned forward, still smiling, and grabbed a fry off his plate.

“What about you?” he asked, chewing on his fry, “How’re you doing?”

Delilah smiled confusedly at Sam, “Me?  What do you mean?”

His face relaxed, showing his usual patience when talking to her, “I mean, how are you doing… seeing Dean again.”  Delilah felt stunned, the glowing, happy feelings disappearing in a millisecond.  Sam ate another fry before going on, “I could’ve punched him earlier for the crap he pulled.  Good thing you caught him at the hospital.”

Delilah did not want to talk about how she felt towards Dean, everything was so jumbled and confusing, so she prodded Sam instead, “Why didn’t you?  I wouldn’ve minded seeing that.”  She reached for one of Sam’s fries and tossed it into her mouth with a smile.

“I get what he’s trying to do,” Sam said, “He’s been doing it, one way or another, my whole life.” Delilah looked at him quizzically.  Sam went on, “This is just his latest version of ‘Protect Sammy.’  He thinks that by staying away, it fixes what he did.  But it doesn’t.” Sam lost his smile again, eating another fry, looking pensive.

Delilah tried to understand the reason behind his bitter tone.  She wished she could just read his mind, she was starting to feel exhausted reading facial cues and deciphering hidden meaning behind his words.  God she was getting a headache.

“So,” she started, trying to gauge what will happen next with the brothers, “After we’re done here…  You think you’ll go your separate ways again?”

Sam pondered silently for a bit, tapping the table with his finger, “I don’t know.”

Delilah waited, but Sam didn’t say anything else.  They paid their bill and headed back to the inn.  She lay on her bed looking up werewolf lore on her tablet, trying to understand more about what she might be facing the next day, walking into the wolves’ den as it were.  Sam, too, was keeping to himself, working on his computer at the desk in the corner.  Around 11, Sam decided to turn in.  Delilah wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts yet though.

“I’m going to head across the street.  There’s a bar and grill thing I saw earlier.”

Sam raised his eyebrow at her, “You be careful, werewolves and all.”

She smiled, “I’ll be fine, I just need noise.  I’m not ready to be alone with my thoughts just yet.”

Sam nodded and she grabbed her jacket and bag, heading out the door.  “Don’t wait up for me,” she called back over her shoulder.

 

Delilah was sitting sideways in a booth, her feet pulled up on the bench, her tablet propped up on her knees as she was completing her notes on the changeling hunt, entering what she had learned about their hunting habits and how they had eliminated that nest.

She nibbled at her bowl of nachos and continued reading.  She looked up as movement beyond the top of her tablet drew her attention.  Familiar, broad, green clad shoulders were hunched over the bar.  She could just see his profile as he signalled the bartender.  He must have just come in.  Delilah took a deep breath, flipped her tablet closed, grabbed her nachos and her bag and walked over to the bar.  She unceremoniously tossed her bag down between the bar and the stool and plopped herself down beside Dean as he ordered himself a whiskey.

“One for me too,” Delilah said, setting the nachos on the bar between her and Dean.  He turned his head away, an exasperated sigh pushing past his lips.  “Hey, not my fault buddy. You walked into my bar.”

Dean turned to look at her, frowning, “Your bar?  You go to the closest bar to the only motel in town and that makes it yours?”

Delilah tossed a nacho into her mouth, then smiled, “When I get there first? Fucking right.”

The bartender brought them their drinks, barely glancing at them before going to assist the few Tuesday night patrons.

Dean picked up his drink and took a sip, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass.  Delilah swallowed a mouthful of hers, getting a raised eyebrow from Dean as she grimaced, the alcohol searing its way down her throat.

Dean chuckled, making her stomach flop in her gut, “Whoa there!  Take it easy, kid.  What will Sam think if you stumble back all drunk?”

“Dunno!” she continued lewdly, “He’d probably call me Dean, and that would get really awkward.”

Dean’s smirk disappeared.  He took another sip of his whiskey and put the glass down on the wooden bar.  Delilah watched him, feeling the emotions trying to bubble to the surface.  She fought them down with another gulp of her whiskey, the hard liquor already starting to muddle her brain.  Her anger at him was strongest, pulling at her gut, making her want to say some really horrible things.  Made her want to keep turning the knife in the Sam/Delilah wound Dean had created for himself.  She picked at the nachos, trying to hold back the flood of cruel words that could so easily burst out.

She turned to look at him again as he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and leaning his elbow on the bar.  He was looking tired, worn down, and suddenly she wasn’t angry with him anymore, now she wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be alright.  Her arms yearned to wrapped themselves around him, to feel him close to her again, soak in his familiar warmth, to kiss him…  Delilah snapped herself away from that train of thought quickly.  It was definitely more dangerous than the angry words.  She looked away and took a sip of her whiskey, annoyed with herself now for her own irrepressible feelings.

“I imagine you and Sam must hate me these days.”

Delilah had not expected those words to come out of Dean’s mouth.  She stared at him, agog a few seconds, hurriedly closing her mouth when he turned to look at her, a sad smile on his face as he sipped at his whiskey again.  All the anger just drained out of her, and she felt sad for him.  It may be a self-imposed exile, but it didn’t change the fact that Dean was out there, on his own, when his whole life, he had had people surrounding him, being there for him. She remembered what it was like striking out on her own after Dean had returned to hunting with Sam and the loneliness of those weeks… and she had only been with the Winchesters a couple of months before that. She couldn’t forget either, that as much as Sam was distraught over Garth suddenly being a werewolf, Dean must be just as torn up inside, only he didn’t have a sympathetic ear to spill to.

“Your brother doesn’t hate you, Dean.  He loves you, how could he not?”

Dean scoffed, his head and shoulders bobbing, “Sam has more reasons to hate me than anybody else.  I’ve put him through so much shit.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Sam is angry as hell with you.  But you don’t get angry like that at someone unless you care about them, right?”  Delilah was still struggling with these ideas herself, so she hoped she was sounding more confident than she felt.

Dean finished his drink with a grimace and put the empty glass down on the bar.  Delilah had a little left so she reached for hers and drank it down.

“What about you?  Are you angry with me?”

Delilah nearly spit it back out, but managed to force her throat muscles to swallow.  Fear suddenly flooded her nervous system, making her heartbeat increase as she struggled with the question she had been avoiding.  She looked at him, his eyes vulnerable as they scanned her face, maybe searching for the answer there.  Delilah locked stares with him as she heard herself answer like from a deep cave, reverting to her reflexes to push away people.

“No.  I’m not angry.  I don’t really care at all what you do Dean, except the things you do that hurt Sam.”

She immediately regretted what she said, but she couldn’t take it back.  Dean looked like she had hit him in the face with a brick.  She basically told him that she cared more about his brother than she did him, pair that with what he said when she told him she was hunting with Sam, well it wasn’t hard to imagine what Dean was thinking.  He turned away from her and pointed to the barman for another whiskey.  Delilah felt like her insides were rotting, collapsing into themselves like a decomposing fruit.  This experiment Sam had started her on, of recognizing her own feelings was quickly becoming disastrous.  Feelings, more trouble than they’re worth… people too for that matter.  She turned to face forward, so she wouldn’t have to see his pain.

“I’m not sleeping with your brother,” she whispered so softly she wasn’t sure he had heard her, she wasn’t sure she had said it either.  This was getting out of control.  She slipped off the bar stool and bent down to pick up her bag, slinging it across her shoulders.  She dropped a few bills on the counter to pay for her food and drink.  She turned to walk out of the bar and back to the motel.

“Lilah,” Dean said, just loud enough for her to hear him.

She stopped, but didn’t turn around.  She stood frozen for what felt like forever, her emotions rioting again and making it impossible for her to know what to do.  When Dean didn’t say anything more, she started walking again, not looking back.  If she looked back, she would give in, she’d run into his arms and kiss him and never let him go.  She could not look back, so she walked away, feeling that crushing weight bear down on her chest.

~


	7. Chapter 7

The black Impala pulled up to a beige country house with a wraparound porch.  The sky was a robin’s egg blue with no cloud in sight, a beautiful fall day in Wisconsin.  Dean and Delilah got out of the car. Dean was on the phone with Sam.  Delilah looked around the beautiful countryside, waiting for them to be done their call so they could go meet a pack of werewolves.  She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t scared.  She stood by the open trunk as Dean pulled out weapons.  He tried to hand her a silver knife, but she pulled out the one Sam had given her, today keeping it in her belt, “You seriously think I would’ve come unprepared?”

Dean rolled his eyes and tucked the knife in his own belt, as well as his usual ivory grip Colt, loaded with silver bullets.

They had bumped into each other, the three of them, at the motel check out that morning, there really was only one in the whole town.  There had been no awkwardness as they threw their bags into their respective cars and then Delilah hopped into the Impala with Dean.  Maybe daylight and the job ahead made it easier to think clearly, to focus on what had to be done, instead of what she should do with the mess inside of her.

Dean slammed the trunk shut and started walking towards the house.  Delilah followed him.

“Any luck with the cops?” he asked his bother on the phone, Delilah couldn’t hear Sam’s response, but Dean turned to look at her as he said, “Yeah,” and then hung up the phone.

“Your brother ask you to keep an eye on me?”  Dean’s lips twitched into a smile for half a second and she shook her head, “You Winchesters, so predictable.”

As they approached the house, Delilah heard singing coming from inside.  She and Dean exchanged glances then made their way up the steps onto the porch.  Dean knocked on the screen door’s wooden frame, Delilah standing slightly behind him.  A pretty, middle aged woman with long blond hair and blue eyes answered the door a few seconds later.  She greeted them with a smile.

“You must be Dean and Delilah,” Dean was standing tensely with his hands in his jacket pockets as she continued in a cheerful voice, “I’m Joy.  Garth’s mother-in-law,” she pushed open the screen door as she waved dismissively, “Oh, stepmother-in-law.  Which I always thought sounded so silly.  Please, come in.” She waved towards the inside of the house as Dean held the screen door open, looking unsure, “We’re just finishing up.”

“Why don’t you just tell Garth we’re here,” said Dean.

Delilah had never seen the hunter look so uncertain, then again, how often is anyone invited into the home of a monster while they’re singing hymns in the next room?

Joy went on still smiling, “Dean, you have my word, you’re safe under my roof.” She paused, looking at him beseechingly, “I only ask the same in return.  After all, I’m not the one carrying silver.”

Dean nodded, looking around the doorjamb apprehensively. He took a few steps into the house, Delilah following him, closing the screen behind her while Joy shut the main door.  Delilah couldn’t help the gooseflesh breaking out on her skin, and she was glad she was wearing long sleeves.  Her hair stood on end too as she drew up to where Dean had stopped, inside the square opening between the hall and a living room.  Inside were people sitting or standing holding prayer books and singing together.  Delilah counted twelve people dressed plainly in country garb including Joy, Bess and Garth who was sitting at the piano accompanying the choir.  Delilah stared, wide-eyed, feeling a little nauseous and awestruck… Could they all be werewolves?  She reached for Dean’s arm, seeking reassurance, but pulled back at the last second, instead wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

The singing concluded and Garth looked around, a pleased smile plastered to his face, as a tall grey-haired man dismissed the gathered flock.  From the way Bess was standing close to him, Delilah guessed this was her father.  He was holding a large, leather-bound prayer book under one arm.

Dean took a step back, subtly pressing Delilah away from the file of people now exiting the living room and heading out the front door, Joy waving them off.  Garth came up to them, calling out happily.

“Oh, hi!  So what’d I tell you?  It’s all good right?”  Bess came to stand beside him.

Dean answered sounding mildly alarmed as two children walked by them, “Everyone here’s a wolf?”

“Yeah,” answered Garth, still smiling and nodding confidently.

“Yeah, not all good.” Dean was shaking his head, the level of alarm increasing, judging by the half-crazed look in his eyes.

“Oh come on, Dean,” Garth went on, still smiling.  He must be used to Dean’s attitude, “You just got to meet ‘em.”  He turned to look at the people, werewolves, Delilah reminded herself again, left around the room.  “That’s Russ and Joba,” Garth pointed to two brown haired men in their mid- to late- twenties, “Bess’ first cousins, on Sister Joy’s side.”  The two nodded at them and Delilah nodded back.  Garth went on, now looking at the tall grey man from earlier, “That’s Reverend Jim, Bess’ dad, leader of the pack and a good man.”  Garth put emphasis on the last two words, as Dean looked on.

The Reverend walked over to them, joined by his wife Joy, and put out his hand, “Dean, isn’t it?  Welcome.” Dean took a small step back, Delilah glanced at the near panic on his face.  She didn’t understand it, maybe it was her inexperience dealing with werewolves, but the longer she was near these people, the less danger she felt.  It was hard to hang on to an unfounded fear surrounded by opposing proof. “Jim Meyers, folks usually call me…”

“Reverend Jim, yeah I got it,” Dean interrupted, combative.

The Reverend still had his hand stretched towards him, Dean was not making a move to take it.  Delilah took a deep breath and dove in, grabbing his hand.  It felt like any other human hand she ever shook.  Reverend Jim turned towards her and smiled as he squeezed her hand gently and lay his other hand over hers.

“I’m Delilah McAllister,” she said, with hardly a quaver.

“I’m so happy you could both come today.”  He turned towards Dean again, letting go of Delilah’s hand, “I understand your apprehension Dean,” he said calmly, “Hunters and our kind don’t have the best history together.”

“But I think you’ll find we’re not much different from you,” continued Joy.

Dean looked skeptical, “Oh, Sister, I highly doubt it.”

“Why don’t we break bread and see?” invited the Reverend.

“Why would I do that?” Dean asked quickly.  Delilah brushed his arm to get his attention.  He looked at her, confused, and she glared at him silently.

The Reverend and his wife, walked away towards the next room, leaving Dean and Delilah alone with Garth and Bess.  Garth was looking disappointed.

“Dean,” he said, chastising him.

“What?” Dean responded looking confused and apprehensive.

Delilah felt so bad for him, the world must be tilting under him.  She stepped around him and put a hand firmly in the middle of his chest, she looked over her shoulder at Garth, “Excuse us a second.”  She pushed Dean out onto the porch and closed the door behind them.  Dean shook her off and took a step back.  She got right up in his space again though, “What is wrong with you?” she hissed at him.

“What? What the hell Lilah?  I’m not going to eat with a pack of werewolves!”

“That is your friend in there.  He invited you here to show you how good the pack is and you’re so pig headed you’re not even giving them a chance.”

“I’m pig headed?  Do you know how many werewolves I’ve ganked?  They’re all wild, bloodthirsty animals.  One bite and you get turned.  It’s a disease Lilah, and we need to control this… outbreak.”

“Calm down Dustin Hoffman.  You and Sam keep talking about werewolves being wild and out of control and killing everything in sight.  Are you seriously telling me, that you think those people in there are evil?  They’re singing hymns and going to church for fuck’s sake!”

“Yeah? Well so do Satanists!” Dean responded.

Delilah crossed her arms and gave him an exasperated look, her voice was calm but firm, “Dean Winchester, you and I are going back in there.  You will sit down at their table and you will be polite.  Because you’re doing this for your friend.  You owe it to him to get a clear understanding of what is going on here, not go in guns blazing.”

Delilah turned around, grabbing the door handle and disappearing into the house again.  Garth was waiting by the staircase.  He smiled at her as she came back in.  She took a deep breath, clearly on a roll, and walked up to him too, whispering, “You listen to me.  If this turns out to be a trap, I will personally cut out your heart and roast it on a spit…  Got it?”

Garth’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded.  Relief flooded Delilah when she heard the front door open, and Dean walked in warily.  Garth led them to the dining room, where Joy and Bess were setting the table with plates and glasses.  Dean and Delilah sat next to each other on one side of the long table, one of the cousins on Dean’s other side.  The Reverend came and sat at the head of the table, his daughter Bess to his right, Garth next to her, directly across from Dean, and the other cousin across from Delilah.  Joy served her and Dean some calcified steak with a side of corn niblets that looked almost less appetizing than what she was serving the wolves: raw, bloody organs and steaks she could only assume belonged to animals, since Garth claimed they didn’t eat humans.

Dean was sitting up straight, still wearing his jacket and looking around like a deer in headlights.  He didn’t touch his plate, and Delilah couldn’t really blame him as she looked around the table at the others eating their food; from the cousins ripping into it like dogs, blood smeared on their faces, to Bess tearing off little chunks and stuffing them into her mouth daintily, to Garth actually using utensils.  It was most definitely the strangest meal she’d ever sat down to.  Dean was obviously grasping at a last shred of normality as he looked around and asked, “Don’t you guys say some sort of a grace or something?”

“We’re more spiritual than we are religious,” the Reverend answered, “We believe much like the American Indians did, that nature and man are one.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, “Really worked out well for _them_.”

Delilah looked at Garth, who had lost his smile along the way, as he glanced at his father-in-law.  She briefly considered trying to eat her steak to be polite, but every time she thought about it, her stomach gave sickening lurches and she figured maybe it would be best not to try.

“So, how long have you two been together?” asked Bess innocently.

Dean sputtered and Delilah felt stunned.  She turned to look at Bess, “Dean and I are not together.”

“Yeah, no,” confirmed Dean.

“Oh come on, guys,” drawled Garth, “It’s obvious you’re into each other.  Sparks fly every time you look at each other.”  Delilah glanced at Dean out of reflex, meeting his eyes a half second before they both turned away and stared ahead wide eyed.  The wolves at the table chuckled softly, and Delilah felt her face redden slightly out of embarrassment.  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Besides,” Garth went on, “it’s not like you can control your pheromones.”

“I’m sorry, our what now?” Dean asked, leaning in.

“Pheromones,” Garth repeated, “They’re chemicals our bodies produce when we feel certain emotions, like fear, aggression and love.  Our sense of smell is so developed, we can detect them.”

“Are you saying you can smell how I feel?” Dean asked, matching Delilah’s horrified expression as Garth nodded, his goofy smile in place.

“Honey Bunny, I think you’re making them uncomfortable.”

Jesus, could they smell that too? Delilah wondered to herself.  She cast around for anything to change the topic.  She had noticed the strange jewelry they were all wearing: bullets on chains around their necks, and she grasped at it.

“Um,” she started, but choked and cleared her throat, “Those are interesting accessories.  Is there a significance to the bullet?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, “Why are a bunch of werewolves wearing silver bullets around their necks?”

Garth coughed, surprised, as the others around the table looked uncomfortable.

“Sorry Dean,” he said, a smile making its way back onto his face as he explained, “but we don’t use the ‘W’ word around here.  We prefer the term Lycanthrope.”

Dean glared at him, “We?”  His voice was low and threatening.

Garth’s smile fell off his face again, and he glanced down at his plate, avoiding the look.  Delilah elbowed Dean in the side, getting a grunt from him and another glare.

“He’s entitled to his opinion Garth,” said the Reverend.

Bess looked at each of them as she tried to explain, “Many of our kind see themselves as indestructible.  This,” she indicated the bullet around her neck, “is a constant reminder of how precious our lives truly are.”

Delilah kind of liked that philosophy, but something was bothering her, “Doesn’t the silver burn?”

“Yeah, it does a bit,” answered Garth, smiling at her, recovered from Dean’s antagonism, “but that’s kinda the point.  It reminds us of our fragility.”

Delilah listened, enraptured, as the Reverend told them about his family’s history.  His first wife, was killed by a hunter shortly after his daughter, Bess, was born.  At the time, he had wanted revenge, but he quickly realized that revenge only led to dark and lonely places and once you started on that path, it never ended, creating an emptiness inside that could never be filled.  He chose instead to forgive and move on, which is when he met Joy, who raised Bess with him like her own.  It turns out Joy was actually a fourth generation werewolf and her father was the previous reverend of the church.

Delilah could fill entire Men of Letters journals with one conversation with these werewolves!  Such a wealth of information for the archives.  She really couldn’t blame Garth for sticking around, these were such good and honest people. She only felt good will aimed at her and Dean, even though they sat there, an open threat to them, Dean not even trying to hide his hostility.

The meal ended with a delicious apple pie that neither of them could resist now that the bloody animal organs were cleared away.  Delilah ate, quietly contemplating all the information from the discussion and listening passively to the cordial, family banter between the werewolves.  Even Dean had lapsed into silence, no longer throwing out abrasive comments.

After everyone was done, he even helped clear the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen.  Delilah excused herself to go to the washroom.  When she got out, she heard Dean’s voice from the kitchen, so she headed that way.  She came up behind him as he was standing by the sink, facing Garth, talking together quietly.  Delilah could tell Garth was upset, not displaying his usual smile.  She leaned against the doorway, observing them.

“Why are you being so hard on everyone?” Garth asked sternly.

“Because there’s no way, that all of this,” Dean gestured around the kitchen, “is what it looks like.  No way.”

“Why not?”

“C’mon man.  I know you drank the Kool-Aid, ok? But come on.”

Garth’s eyes flicked to where she was standing, but he ignored her, focused on what he was telling Dean. “Look… Amigo… I know this all looks nuts, but I found it.” A happy look spread over his face, not an easy task with Dean glaring at him, Delilah mused, “Love and a family? Who cares where that comes from?”

Dean looked away, finally noticing Delilah in the door.  He turned back to Garth to answer him.  “I do.”

Delilah walked up to stand beside him, sticking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and staring at her feet, while Garth continued to try to explain to Dean.

“I get it.  When I first got here, I couldn’t let go, either.  I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  But when it didn’t, I had to accept the truth.”

“Well, I got another truth for ya.  We were all left in the dark when you went AWOL.”  The intensity in his voice made Delilah look up at him, he looked so angry.  “I didn’t know wether you were dead or worse.  You should’ve reached out and sent someone a message.”

“And said what Dean?  That I was a werewolf?” Dean looked away again, annoyed, “I was embarrassed.  I thought it best for everyone if I just stayed away. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t think about and miss you and Sam, Kevin.”

Hearing Kevin’s name, Dean locked eyes with Garth and Delilah took a deep breath.  She reached for Dean’s hand, but thought twice about taking it, settling for grazing the back of his hand with hers.  Garth must’ve sensed something was wrong again, because his face lost its anger and became confused.

“Kevin’s gone,” Dean said, his voice roughened by emotion, “Gone for good.”

“What? What happened?” Garth asked, looking like someone had punched him in the gut.

Dean’s lip quavered for a second, “When he needed me, I wasn’t there. That’s what.”

Delilah closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself again, her emotions raw from the memories of the night Kevin died… and the events that followed.  All around her was shocked silence, each of them dealing with their grief, fresh and new for Garth.

Not long after that, they took their leave of the werewolves, heading back out to the car in the setting afternoon sun.  They didn’t go very far though.  Dean turned into the lane next door which led to a barn.  He parked the Impala facing the beige country house and turned off the engine.

“What are you doing Dean?” she asked him.

“What’s it look like?  Good ol’ fashioned steak out.”

Delilah dropped her head backwards onto the top of the bench seat, exasperated.  “And just what do you expect to find on this steak out?”

“Proof. There’s more going on here than this Seventh Heaven crap.”

The pig headed, stubborn jackass just couldn’t let go.  He wouldn’t stop until he proved himself right.  Delilah breathed out loudly and turned her head looking at the back seat.  She glanced at Dean staring intently out the front window and figured she may as well take a nap.  She climbed over the seat, into the back, Dean only glancing at her as she did.  She rolled down one of the windows, bunched up her jean jacket, and lay down on her side, curling her legs on the seat.  She was asleep in minutes for once.

 

The sound of an engine rumbling, not quite as deep a rumble as the Impala, and the crunch of gravel just outside the car window woke her up.  The sun had set completely and night had descended a chill creeping in around her.  She looked at the driver’s seat, but Dean was nowhere in sight.  She rolled to her back, one foot on the floor of the car and the other bent sideways.  She heard the slam of a car door as, she guessed, Sam got out of his car.

“Hey,” he said in greeting but no one responded, “What’d you do with Delilah?”

“She’s asleep in the back seat,” Dean’s rumbly voice replied.

“Really?” Sam said, sounding surprised, “Wow, who knew you were so dull?  She hardly ever sleeps.”  Delilah couldn’t help but smile, doofuses.

“Nothing quite like blind rage to put a girl to sleep!” she called out from the backseat.

Sam laughed, looking in at her through the windshield and waving.  She waved back.  Sam straightened up and went to lean on the hood with Dean.  Delilah sat up, her ear to the open window and her eyes on their backs.

Sam told them about his meeting with the Sheriff, how well respected Reverend Jim’s family was around town, and how no strange deaths, murders or disappearances have happened, in fact not much crime of any sort.  Dean gave Sam a rundown of what happened with the werewolves, Delilah peppering his recount with her commentaries on his piss poor attitude.

“Okay, Dean, they gave you lunch, they gave you pie, why are we still here?” asked Sam.

“My point exactly!” threw out Delilah.

Dean shifted and looked her way briefly then turned to face forward again, “Yeah, you’re right. Garth’s good.” He turned to Sam, “You wanna take Miss Pain-in-the-Ass back there and hit the road, that’s fine by me.”  Delilah glared at him in the dark, but again, Sam wasn’t fooled.

“Look, I’m just saying, this wouldn’t be the first time we came across a friendly monster,” Sam said calmly.  He certainly had more patience for his brother’s bullshit than she did.  “Or a-a _family_ of friendly monsters.  Whatever this is.”

Sam’s phone started ringing and he pulled it out of his coat pocket.  Delilah rolled up the window and got out of the car, throwing her jacket on, walking over to lean on the side of the Dart’s hood, facing the brothers, as Sam answered.

“Agent Perry,” he said into it, then listened, “Sheriff!  How can I help you?” Dean was looking at Sam, concern wrinkling his forehead. “Really?”  Sam looked over at Dean and spun his finger in the air; time to go! “Okay.”

Delilah pushed herself off from the car and reached for the Impala’s handle as Sam hung up the phone doing the same.  Dean didn’t move from his spot.

“You guys go, check it out.  I’m gonna stay here, keep an eye on the place.”

“Dean,” Sam said, glaring at him.

Delilah rolled her eyes and headed around the back of the Dart to go sit in the passenger seat.  “Let’s just go Sam.  Let Dean stew in his paranoia,” Delilah said dropping into the car.

She just heard Sam tell Dean, before she closed the door, “Don’t do anything without talking to me first, alright?  This may be nothing.”

She didn’t hear his reply but she saw him nod at the ground before looking right at her through the windshield.  Delilah couldn’t help the flip her stomach did and she was glad the wolves weren’t around to call her on her ‘pheromones’ or whatever.  She kept steady eye contact with him as Sam opened the driver’s door and sat down, starting the engine.  Dean looked away as they drove around the Impala and back down the driveway to the road.  Delilah took a deep breath, her head relieved to be away from Dean, while her gut twisted missing his presence.  Goddamn it Dee!  Get it, the fuck, together.

“So, what’s up with the Sheriff?” she asked Sam, to get her mind off his stupid brother.

“Don’t know, he didn’t say.  He told me that he found something strange and to meet him on Skog Road, off Tobe Lake.”

Delilah typed it into her GPS and looked at the map, “Sam, that’s heavily forested road.”

“Yeah, let’s play it safe when we get there, ok?  Be alert.”

Delilah chewed at her lower lip, worried.  They pulled up on the side of the road, behind the Sheriff’s car, 30 minutes later.  As Sam and Delilah got out of the car, she saw a mutilated deer carcass off to the side of the road, lit up by a spot light from the Sheriff’s squad car.  As they approached, he called out to them.

“Well, you wanted weird, agent.  You tell me what tore up that deer.  Nothing that runs in these parts.”

It was easily close to 20 degrees and Delilah folded her arms, holding her jean jacket closed to try and keep as much warmth as possible in her body.  Had she known they would have been running around Wisconsin at night, she would’ve brought warmer clothes, but she had packed for New Mexico.

She and Sam approached the dead deer, the Sheriff staying behind.  Sam crouched down to examine it by the light of the spot and Delilah did the same, looking around at the woods and slight fog surrounding them.  Sam reached towards the deer, a frown on his face, he pulled back his fingers, wet with blood.

“This is fresh blood,” he called out over his shoulder to the sheriff.

“Yes, it is,” responded the Sheriff, oddly.

Delilah felt her neck prickle uneasily as she looked at Sam.  He was looking more and more upset by the minute.  He held his hand over the deer, “It’s still warm,” he told her, keeping his voice down.  Delilah looked at him.  “That means it died after we got the call.”

Delilah heard the click of a gun being cocked behind her and she and Sam quickly stood up, turning around to face the Sheriff, who had his gun trained on them.

“Couldn’t just accept that all was good and move on, could you?” he said.

Delilah could just see the Sheriff’s distorted face, backlit by his car’s lights.  He had long canines jutting out of his mouth and his eyes looked odd with hardly any white cornea showing.  The irises were dark, but not black like demon eyes.

The Sheriff went on, “You have no idea what you’ve walked into, do you?”  Delilah carefully pulled her silver knife out of her belt and held it behind her leg, her heart slamming in her chest, as she felt the adrenaline surging through her body, ready for a fight.

Sam’s arm flew up suddenly and he threw his knife at the Sheriff, the blade slicing the arm holding up the gun, making him drop it.  Sam started running at the werewolf, who crouched down and swiped at him with his claws, Sam falling with the force of it.  Delilah cried out trying to see if he was alright, but in her moment of distraction the werewolf pounced on her.  She raised her blade and felt the heavy body of the Sheriff ram into her as they fell back, heavily, to the ground.  “No!” yelled Sam and he ran over to them.  Delilah was staring into the surprised face of the Sheriff, his monster teeth inches from her and she was frozen in terror, trapped under his weight.  Sam reached them and pulled the Sheriff’s lifeless body off her.  She let go of the knife lodged hilt deep in his chest as it was pulled away.  Her heart was still pumping wildly, but her brain had left the building, she was so stunned.

“Oh my God, Delilah. Are you ok?” Sam asked, in a panic, taking her face in his hands.

Delilah nodded her head still in shock.  She swallowed, “Is he dead?”

Sam looked back at the body of the werewolf and then back at her with a smile, “Yeah, he’s dead.” He took one of her arms and straightened up, pulling her along with him, “Come on, you bad ass.  Let’s get you up.”

She wavered on her feet a bit and leaned into his side, feeling the surge ebb away slowly.  She looked at the dead body, staring sightlessly up at the sky, and she walked over to it.  She bent down and grabbed the handle of her knife, pulling it out in one swift motion and wiping it down on the Sheriff’s shirt.  Sam bent down next to her and pulled at something around the werewolf’s neck.

“Hey,” he said, the silver bullet coming free from the shirt collar, “Look at this.”

He yanked it off, the chain breaking, and he and Delilah stood up to examine it in the light.

“I’ve seen that before!” Delilah exclaimed, “At Reverend Jim’s house.  All the werewolves were wearing one just like that.”

Sam looked at the bullet again, “Ragnarök?” he said, showing Delilah the word etched into the silver.

“That’s from Norse mythology.  Isn’t that what they call the end of the world?” she said.

“Yeah,” answered Sam, “But why is it etched onto a bullet?”

“We have to let Dean know.  He could get ambushed too.”

“Right, you give him a call, I’ll clean this up.”

Delilah nodded once and turned away towards the Dart, as Sam bent down to grab the Sheriff’s arms.  She reached into her pocket and found Dean’s number in her contacts.  She sat in the passenger seat watching Sam wrestle the Sheriff into the driver’s seat of the squad car as the phone rang, “Come on, come on, come on, Dean… Pick up.”

“Yeah.” Relief flooded Delilah at the sound of his gruff voice.

“Dean! Thank God.”

“What is it? What happened?” he asked, responding to her distress.

“The Sheriff was a werewolf…”

Dean cut her off, “Where are you, I’m coming.”

“No no! We’re fine! He attacked us, but we got him.  Listen…  the Sheriff had a silver bullet around his neck.”

“Fuck! I knew it!”

“Will you stop interrupting me?  The bullet had the word “Ragnarök” etched into it.”

“What like, Thor, Loki, Odin stuff?”

“Exactly.  Why is it etched into a bullet?  What’s the significance?”

“Who cares? We got all the answers we need.”

“Dean!  Don’t go charging in there.  We _don’t_ have all the answers yet.”

“The Sheriff tried to kill you, that’s enough for me!”

“Really?  Is it enough to kill Garth?”

There was silence on the other end of the line as Dean processed that.  Sam had pushed the car into the woods and was heading back to the Dart now, wiping his hands.  When the silence continued, Delilah pushed on more gently.

“Dean?  Are you still there?”

“Yeah.  Look, you and Sam go grab Garth and lock him up until we figure out what’s what.”

“Okay, what will you do?”

“I’m gonna go check out that church.”

Delilah took a deep breath, “Be carefu…”

Dean hung up, cutting her off.  She dropped her hands to her lap, staring at the disconnected call screen as Sam opened the door and sat down behind the wheel, looking at her.  She refused to let herself be upset, they had work to do.  She clicked off the screen and stuck the phone back in her pocket then looked out the windshield.

“Dean says he’s going to check out the church.  He wants us to go pick up Garth and keep him locked up until we have more info.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You mean we don’t have to rush over there on a rescue mission because Dean’s gone in half cocked?”

“No, I talked him off that ledge.”

Sam looked impressed as he stuck the key in the ignition, “Alright then, let’s go get Garth.”

 

They pulled up to Garth and Bess’ apartment block.  Delilah leaned down to see the third floor out the window.  There were a few lights on.

“Looks like somebody’s home.” She turned to Sam, “What’s the plan?  How are we doing this?”

“I’m not convinced Garth had anything to do with what happened back there.” Delilah nodded, not sure which brother was more deluded. “Let’s just go up, see if Garth’s home and we’ll take it from there.”

“And if it turns out Garth is part of all this?  What then?”

Sam sighed, a look of consternation on his face, “Then we’ll take care of it.”

Delilah nodded, getting out of the car, checking she still had her knife in place.  Sam tucked his gun in the back of his belt as he walked around the car, heading for the building door.  They walked down the hallway, Sam taking point, no weapons drawn.  Suddenly he stopped and pressed back flat against the wall, pushing her behind him with his arm.  He put a finger to his lips, letting her know to keep quiet and pointed to the door.  Delilah leaned around his body and saw that it wasn’t completely closed.  Sam inched forward and slowly pushed the door open.  Delilah took her knife out of her belt and followed carefully.  Inside was a mess: there was a lamp on the floor and papers spread all over, another lamp knocked over by the couch and other than the inhabitants, nothing seemed to be missing.

“Garth?” Sam called out.

Delilah stepped into the room carefully and looked around.  The place wasn’t big enough to hide much of anything in.  She looked in the bedroom while Sam checked the washroom on the right, but no one was there.  She met him in the middle of the main room, tucking her knife back into her belt.

“They’re not here,” she said.

“No, and somehow I don’t think they left willingly.”

He was grinding his teeth again, making his jaw bulge angrily.  He patted his coat, and pulled his cellphone out.  He dialled his brother and put it on speaker.

“Hey, did you find the lovebirds?” Dean said as soon as the call connected.

“No.  Place is a wreck.  No Garth, no Bess.”

“What, they were taken?” he sounded surprised, “Well that’s fucking great,” he added sarcastically.

“Did you find anything at the church?” Delilah asked, leaning towards the phone.

“Well, this uh… Ragnarök, end-of-days shit… Star of the story is a wolf named Fenris, who kills the god Odin before the world ends.”

“Ok, and that helps us how?” asked Sam

“There are cults that consider Fenris a wolf deity, and worship him.  They call themselves the Maw of Fenris.”

“Like a werewolf cult?” asked Delilah, her incredulity matched in Sam’s face.

“Ok, what do they want?” he asked.

Dean pushed on, “Well, Ragnarök is not just a bible story to these nut jobs.  It’s an action plan; human extinction, total and complete werewolf domination.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, “And… what? This is ground zero for their movement?”

“Freakin’ Wisconsin man,” Dean commented impassively.

There was a pause, with none of them talking, then Delilah asked what was on all their minds, “So, what do we do now?”

“Well, time for Reverend Jim to go down,” said Dean, and this time both Sam and Delilah were out of arguments.

“Yeah,” said Sam, “Need any help?”

“No, no, no, I got it.  You just, uh, you find Garth.”

“Alright.”

Sam hung up the cell phone and headed out of the apartment, Delilah following him.  Suddenly, he stopped, looking up and before Delilah could warn him, he was hit in the back of the head by a tire iron.

“Sam!” Delilah cried out as he fell to the ground unconscious.

The two cousins, from Reverend Jim’s place, stepped over his inert body into the room towards her.  She pulled out her knife and took her stance.  They smiled, and one of them moved up to her, grabbing her by the front of the jacket.  She brought the blade down on his arm and sliced him, the werewolf crying out and clutching his cut, but the other cousin came up beside her and knocked the blade out of her hand before she could strike again.  Delilah made for the door, but the wolves were too quick, one of them grabbing her around the waist and slamming her down on the ground.  She saw stars as she hit her head on the wooden floor.  The other cousin kneeled down and grabbed her collar, “Filthy hunter bitch,” he spat and then punched her across the cheek.  Delilah knew nothing after that.

~


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing she was aware of was a pounding ache at the back of her head, then the burn in her cheek as she moved her jaw around gingerly.  Next, she heard, without making out the words, a man calling out in anger.  Delilah decided to try opening her eyes, and she winced at the pain again.  In front of her, she saw Sam still unconscious and tied to the front wheel of a tractor.  She also noticed the two cousins with their backs to her, standing in the middle of a hay strewn barn.  Garth was tied to a loft ladder ahead and to the left with a big chain around his arms and torso.  Joy, the Reverend’s wife, was standing facing Bess who was also tied to a beam, but sitting.

Delilah tried to pull her arms forward, but found that she too was tied tightly to a heavy oak barrel, she was unable to move without dislocating something.  Joy’s words were finally becoming clearer, as the fog in her head lifted.

“I’m going to hurt,” she said chuckling, “all of you.”

Garth looked at his wife, his face contorted in pain and regret, “I’m sorry,” he said.

Delilah was fuming inside, “Hey bitch!” she called out to Joy, who turned around to face her, “Just what do you expect will happen when Dean finds out, huh?  He’s going to use your skin for a fucking bath mat.  He’s going to tear apart your Maw of Fenris bit by bit ‘till there’s nothing left.”

Joy started laughing, the cousins chuckling along too, “I think you’re over estimating Dean’s competence, dear.”

Delilah snarled at her, pulling on her bindings again, but stopping at the pain in her shoulder.  Joy laughed again and gave her a snarl of her own – a terrifying, jaw extending, iris spreading, claw elongating snarl.

“Joy, please, it’s not too late,” Garth pleaded, “You can stop this.”

She turned around and stalked up to him, reaching back and hitting him twice across the face with her fist.  Blood stained his mouth but he kept right on pleading with her.  Begging her to spare her daughter’s life.

Joy was irate, “How many times do I have to say this?  _Step_ daughter!  I’m the last of my bloodline, thanks to you and your kind out there.”

Sam started stirring and Delilah felt relief that he was ok.  If they could just get out of these bindings.

“He’s awake.”

Delilah whipped her head around to look at the cousin who spoke.  Damnit.  Joy turned around too as Sam groaned.  She walked up to him as he tested his own restraints, an angry look on his face.

“Well don’t you just look good enough to eat,” Joy said in a fake chipper voice.  Delilah noticed the gun in her hand for the first time.  Sam looked around seeing Garth and Bess tied up, and then looking left to see Delilah tied as well.  He ground his teeth again, the tendons in his neck tense.  Delilah pulled on her restraints to show him she couldn’t get out either.  Sam turned back to Joy.

“Why are you doing this?  I mean, Delilah, me I can understand, but these people are your family.  Your pack.”

Garth was looking more and more in distress, chained to the loft ladder, unable to move.  Joy dismissed the cousins, sending them to guard the perimeter, before she turned back to Sam to explain, loading silver bullets into the gun, her fingers sizzling.

“Last winter, my little brother, Charlie, was killed by a hunter,” she put in the last bullet, gasping at the burn in her fingers, and then locked in the chamber. “My husband counselled patience, restraint.  Just as when he took over our beloved church, he preached… A new direction: Lycanthropes and man would co-exist!” Sam pulled at his restraints while she spoke, pacing and looking at each of them in turn, enjoying her villain venting moment.  “Peace was more important than dominance.”  Her serene mask fell, and she grew angry, “I tried so hard to make his way work… to be a preacher’s wife.  But then… Charlie was murdered.  And I couldn’t help remembering my Daddy’s sermons.” She went back to her chipper tone, her excitement so incongruous with the circumstances. “And by golly! Turns out he was right!  As long as there is a man, there can be no peace, because man destroys.  And I for one am sick of it.”

She turned back to Sam, who looked no further than Delilah getting out of his bindings, and she started feeling the panic rise.  Dean was their last hope… Would he know where to look? Would he get there in time?  Joy bent down right in Sam’s face, enjoying having him unable to defend himself or anyone else.  Delilah knew that Sam was more likely to get out of this than her, he just needed time and something to distract the Big Bad Wolf.

“Listen to yourself,” Delilah tossed out, attracting Joy’s attention to her.  She was starting to understand Dean’s smartass mouth when fighting monsters, “Blah, blah, blah, boo hoo.  Everyone’s got a fucking sob story.  There’s just something off about all that shit you just said.  Something I don’t understand.”

“Well you are a little dimwitted, not quite the same caliber as the other two.”

The bitch! “Enlighten me then.  How exactly, will you killing Jim’s only daughter do anything other than have him turn his rage on the Maw?”

Joy started laughing and took a few steps towards her, “Oh little girl, trying to play in the big hunter world, yet you don’t understand anything.  I’m not going to kill Bess…  You are!”

Delilah looked on, confused, but Joy went on, “The two of you, cornered Garth here.” She pointed to where Garth was chained up, “and then when Bess came running in to see what the fuss was about,” she fake gasped, “you killed her… Here.” She stopped in front of Bess looking down at her, pointing the gun at her chest.

“No!” cried out Garth, pulling on his restraints even more.

Joy ignored him, “Silver to the heart.”

In his distress, Garth started to change, his wolfish features contorting his face painfully as he growled.  Sam looked unsettled and he stopped pulling on his restraints.

“You’re going to pin their murders on us,” he said.

“My husband turned his cheek once… I don’t think he can do it again.  And it will be _his_ hand that starts Ragnarök!”

She took a few steps and crouched in front of Bess.  Delilah couldn’t see her anymore, obscured by Joy’s back.  She looked around, trying to see if there was any way to escape.  She heard Joy gasp and Sam grunt, but she didn’t look back, because at that moment, she saw, behind her and to the left, a tall, broad shouldered figure make his way silently into the barn, gun trained dead ahead.  The cavalry had arrived.  She looked back to see Joy’s claws growing, ready to swipe at Sam, the gun no longer in her hand.

Suddenly Delilah heard growling from behind her and she turned around just in time to see one of the cousins pounce on Dean from the loft above the door.  His gun was knocked out of his hands as he and the wolf fell to the ground, out of sight.

Joy turned around, at first happy, but then her tooth twisted face fell, and Garth was looking relieved.  Delilah could hear the sounds of scuffling behind her and tried to see what was happening as she heard the thud of a body.  Dean walked back into her line of sight, nothing in his hands.

“Wearing Russ’ coat to hide your scent… smart,” Joy said bitterly, talking around the fangs protruding from her mouth.  Guess that means the other cousin was taken care us as well, go Dean!

“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Dean responded, completely focused on his target.

“As am I,” whispered Joy.

Everything happened in a split second, and Delilah had no idea where to look.  Joy turned and jumped for the gun on the ground, then spun and stood, the gun firing.  Delilah closed her eyes and flinched, trying to hide herself but still unable to move.  She heard the thump of a body not behind her, but in front of her and when she opened her eyes, Joy was lying dead on the ground, shot right in the heart.

She twisted around just as Dean came rushing up to her, falling to his knees behind the barrel.  She could feel him loosening the ties on her hands as he called out to his brother, “Alright Sammy?”

“Yeah, I’m good.  Just get me out of this fucking chain.”

Dean chuckled, “What’s wrong Sam?  Did you forget the safe word?”

He finished untying her and she brought her hands to the front, rolling her stiff shoulders.  Dean came around and helped her to her feet.  He looked into her face and flinched, “Oh! Whoa!” His face broke out into a smile, “Nice shiner Lilah.”

She brought her hand to her burning cheek and felt the tender swollen flesh. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Always a lady, Babe,” Dean said, his smile growing wider.

Delilah was almost stunned, she stared into his eyes and he stared back, his smile falling slowly.  His hand was still holding her arm, and they were so close.  Delilah’s heart was pounding again.

“Guys!” Sam called out, snapping them both out of the moment, “Can you keep it for later?”

Dean frowned and turned to help his brother while Delilah made a beeline for the smiling Garth.  She was relieved that his face was back to its normal features, even though it was covered in blossoming bruises.  She did not, however, want to know why he was smiling like a buffoon.  She went to the back of the ladder, looking for how the chain was attached.  It turned out to be a simple hook, looped into one of the links.  She tugged on it trying to get enough slack to remove it.  Finally, it gave and the rest of the chain just fell to the ground, now that the tension was out.  Garth rushed over to Bess’ side, who was being untied by Dean, Sam stretching his sore body.  When she was also free, the two of them wrapped their arms around each other, saying sweet nothings and holding on tightly.  When they kissed, Dean suddenly got awkward and walked away, not looking at the display.  He looked up and Delilah kept her eyes on his face.  He was only a few feet away, but he stopped suddenly, not taking another step towards her.  She frowned, confused.  All she wanted was to feel him holding her, she yearned for it more than anything else at that moment and from the conflicted look in his eyes, she thought maybe he felt the same, so what was stopping him?

He suddenly turned to his left and walked away, right out of the barn, leaving Delilah feeling shattered.  She looked up and saw Garth and Bess looking at her sadly, still holding on to each other.  Sam took a step towards her, but she wrapped her arms around her middle and turned to leave as well, making her escape out the side door.

She walked over to the wooden fence separating the barn from the main house.  There was a convenient tree just on the other side and she climbed the fence and sat down in the crook between the large tree trunk and the white painted boards.  Concealed in her hiding spot, she drew her knees up, folded her arms and laid her head down on them.

She was so stupid.  What was she expecting anyways?  It was obvious that he didn’t want to be with her, he had made that clear enough when he left the bunker. So why did she think anything would have changed?  Besides, she didn’t want to be with him in that way, this was just hormones and adrenaline and the fact that he had saved them. Nothing more.

A tear dropped from her good eye and she wiped it away furiously.

She heard footsteps rustling on the grass in front of her and she looked up to see Bess heading her way, from the house, holding a towel in her hand.  Figures, Delilah thought, you can’t hide from an animal who can smell your friggin’ mood changes, never mind your actually body odour.  She drew up to Delilah’s hiding place and looked at her kindly.  “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked in her sweet, gentle voice.  Hard to believe she was the same kind of creature Joy had been.  Delilah didn’t say anything, and Bess took that as an invitation.  She smoothed down her dress and tucked it under her knees and she sat down in the grass beside her.  “Here, for your eye.”  She handed her the towel that she could now see had something wrapped in it.

Delilah looked at it apprehensively, “There’s not some poor cow’s heart wrapped in there, is there?”

Bess laughed, a gentle tinkling sound, “No, silly.  It’s just ice.”

Delilah took it gratefully and pressed the cool cloth to her face.  She started being aware of just how cold the night was, and she shivered in her jean jacket.  Bess reached over and petted Delilah’s long hair soothingly.  She was still yearning for Dean’s denied comfort and she found herself overwhelmed suddenly with the need for it, no matter the source.  She leaned into Bess’ shoulder, tucking her head against her neck as the werewolf wrapped her arms around her and rocked her slowly.

Time passed.  Just how much, Delilah couldn’t be sure.  At some point, Bess stood up and led her back to the house.  Sam was sitting in the living room with the Reverend, hot cups of coffee in front of them.  Delilah went to sit beside Sam on the couch, still holding the ice to her face, but feeling the cold slowly seep away from her body.

She listened to Sam tell the Reverend what happened in the barn and by the time Dean wandered into the house, the sun rising over the fields, Delilah was fully composed and back to being angry with the jerk.

Reverend Jim, got up from his seat and moved past Dean and away towards the kitchen.  Sam stood too, grabbing his coat from the armrest and heading for the kitchen too.  He walked up to his brother who was standing in the hall just inside the door.

“I assume you can give us a ride back to my car?” Sam said coldly, turning a little towards Delilah.

Dean nodded and Sam walked off towards the kitchen too.  Delilah looked down at her hands as Dean walked into the living room.  “You mind explaining to me what that was back there, Dean?” she asked him, the anger bubbling below the surface.

“I’m sorry, Lilah,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Sorry for _what_ , exactly?”

“This was all my fault,” he said, “You were almost killed because of me, again.”

Oh no! Not this self-loathing shit storm again.  “Fuck you, Dean Winchester,” she burst out angrily as she stood up from the couch.  “You don’t make my decisions for me, _I_ do, and you don’t get to take the blame for the shit I get _myself_ into.” She saw Garth come around the corner, looking alarmed but she went on, “And just what is it you think is your fault?  I came here with Sam, not you.”

“You and Sam got highjacked on _my_ watch!” Dean was getting angry too, his volume rising.

Delilah matched him, coming to stand a couple feet from him, looking him straight in the eyes, “They got the drop on us, Dean! It fucking happens!  The same thing could’ve happened to you.”

“You never would’ve started hunting if it wasn’t for me!”

Delilah threw her hands in the air in exasperation at the old argument.  She turned and took a few steps away from him.  “I decided to hunt, _me_!” she said, turning around again, pointing at herself, “No one forced me to do this, so would you please, for Christ’s sake, stop saying it’s your fault?  Cuz guess what?  I’m not stopping!  You hear me?  Even if I have to hunt on my own, I will.  So you get it?  I’ll always be in danger, and you won’t always be able to protect me, because it’s NOT YOUR JOB!”

Dean stood stiffly, fuming, but not saying anything.  Delilah walked out of the living room, past a stunned Garth and headed down the hallway to the washroom.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the sink, looking into the mirror.  She forced her breathing to slow down and got her first look at the bruise around her cheekbone.  It was swollen and red and made her look like Quasimodo in the Disney film, but she didn’t care.  As far as she was concerned, it was a badge of pride.  She went up against two werewolves and made it out alive.  Not to forget the one she’d killed before that.

She opened the tap and splashed some water onto her face, feeling the sting in her cheek with relish.  When she was completely calm again, she made her way back down the hallway towards the front door.  The sun was really shining now, the day gearing up to be another gorgeous one.

As she got closer, she saw Dean leaning against the dining room wall just beside the opening between the two rooms.  He was looking towards the kitchen.  Delilah rounded the corner and saw Sam and Garth mid-hug, the Reverend and Bess were sitting in the kitchen, at the table.  Poor Jim was looking distraught.  Garth released Sam and he walked out towards the door, nodding at his brother and giving her a tense smile.  She gave him a quick smile back, not really feeling like comforting anyone at this point.  She crossed her arms and leaned back against the narrow piece of wall that formed the square opening to the room.

She watched Garth approach Dean, who pushed himself from the wall looking towards the kitchen.

“How’s he doing?” he asked softly, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“He’s taking it pretty hard, feels like he should’ve seen the signs earlier.”

Dean scoffed, “Yeah, well, maybe you were right.”  Garth turned to look at him, as Dean continued, “He seems like a good man… considering.”

Garth nodded. “And _you_ were right.  Everything around here _wasn’t_ copacetic.”  He looked away, “I screwed up again.  First Kevin, now this.”

Dean looked at him gently as he chided him, “Hey.  Kevin?  That’s on me.”  Delilah scoffed loudly, turning away from him, tired of this broken record.  Dean went on, undeterred, “I’m the one that pulled him into all this.  I’m the one that should have been there to protect him.”

Delilah turned and saw Dean looking right at her.  She lowered her eyes to the floor, stopping herself from yelling at him again.

“Well,” said Garth, “Guess there’s enough of that blame to go around then.”

Dean and Garth exchanged a look, Dean nodding his head.  He turned and headed for the front door, opening it.  Delilah pushed off from the wall, following behind him.  Garth called out after them, making Dean stop and Delilah stand beside him.

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

“Um,” Garth rubbed his eyes, looking embarrassed, “I know this may sound a little crazy, but…” He looked up at Dean’s face again, “Maybe I could come back and hunt with you.”  Dean looked at him surprised, “I mean, with my werewolf mojo, we’d have an advantage.”

Dean looked away and then back at the scrawny guy, “Yeah, look, Garth…”

“No, look Dean.  I want to make this right.” He was looking so genuinely sad, Delilah could feel the need for redemption coming off of him.  “I never should’ve left you guys.  Especially Kevin.  Kevin was my friend.  Friends don’t do that.”

Dean looked at Delilah standing next to him, and then back up to Garth, worrying his lower lip before talking, his voice sounding rougher than usual.  “Well, hey!  You said it.” His face was lit up with a faint smile, “Who cares where happiness comes from?  Look we’re all a little weird, we’re all a little wacky, some more than others,” Garth smiled, “But… If it works, it works.  You got something here.  Okay?  Even if they _are_ werewolves… Lycanthropes, whatever.  Don’t let that go.  Okay?  You’ll never forgive yourself.”

Delilah couldn’t take her eyes off Dean.  Did he even realize what he was saying?  He was telling Garth it was ok to be happy, and content, and that if he had found that, he shouldn’t let it go.  Why couldn’t he accept it for himself?

Dean paused, nodding his head.  “Besides, somebody’s got to live to tell this damn story someday, and who better than you?”

He smiled at Garth, the smile making it all the way to his eyes this time.  But Delilah was sad, did he mean that he truly thought he wouldn’t survive this?  Whatever ‘this’ could be; the hunt for Metatron, or Gadreel, or even just hunting in general.

Dean looked awkward suddenly, shifting from one foot to the other. “Now shut up, and come over here.” He held out his arms.

Garth looked at him quizzically, but smiling. “Really?” he said, unsure.

“Hurry up before I change my mind,” Dean said, gesturing him forward with his hands.

Garth launched himself at Dean, wrapping his long arms around him, while Dean patted him on the back a few times, looking absolutely uncomfortable.  Delilah couldn’t help but smile at the gesture of affection.  Garth pulled back and looked at Delilah, how could she say no?  She opened her arms to him to receive her bony hug, feeling like maybe she belonged to this growing circle of friends.  Before he pulled back, Garth whispered to her, “Don’t give up on him.  You both deserve whatever happiness you can find too.”

She looked at him, lost for words as he smiled at her.  Dean frowned at them, curious, but didn’t ask.  He opened the door and headed out, Delilah following him into the bright sunshine.  Garth’s words were resonating in her head and she looked up at Dean’s retreating back as he made his way down the porch steps.

“Dean, wait,” she said, feeling her anxiety mixing with her need for contact, her need for him and when he turned around to look at her, one foot on the bottom step and the other on the grass, she acted.  She walked right into him, pressing her mouth to his and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  Dean wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as they kissed.  He felt so good, so right!  Familiar, even with the longer facial hair.  She wanted this so badly, just this, for as long as she could hold on to it.  Forever if she could.

Turns out forever wasn’t quite as long as she thought.  Dean pulled away abruptly, holding her by the shoulders, keeping her at arm’s length.  Delilah felt hurt and confused.

“I can’t, Lilah.”

Delilah felt all her emotions slip away down to her stomach and dissolve.  She looked at his face impassively as his eyes revealed his inner turmoil, and she just didn’t care.  This was bullshit.  She tried, but she was tired of the rejection.  He couldn’t?  More like he didn’t want to try.  Stupid, meddling werewolves, sticking ideas in her head.

She batted one of his arms away and moved past him abruptly, making her way to the Impala parked in the driveway.  She looked up to see Sam sitting in the passenger seat, his eyes on the countryside next to him, but she was in no doubt that he had caught the whole show.  She hoped he’d enjoyed it, because it was not going to be happening again.

She opened the back door of the Impala and sat down on the bench seat in the back, scooting over to sit behind Sam.

“Delilah…” he started.

“Save it, Sam.  I really don’t want to hear it right now.”

She stared out the side window as Dean climbed into the driver’s seat and they drove back to Garth’s apartment complex and Sam’s car.

Dean pulled up, stopping Baby pointed at the blue Dart Demon’s side.  Delilah pushed open the back door, she couldn’t wait to get away. Sam hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something, but then pushed open his own door.  “I’ll send you that postcard,” he told his brother and climbed out of the Impala.  Delilah went to stand by the passenger’s side of Sam car, waiting for him to unlock the doors so they could head out.  He was heading her way, when she heard the creak of the Impala’s door, just as Dean called out, “Hey,” getting out of the car and coming towards them.  Sam stopped and turned around, frowning at his brother warily.  Dean slowly walked up to him, his brow furrowed.

“Uh, listen, that night that, uh… you know, we went our, our separate ways…”

Sam interrupted him angrily, “You mean the night you split?”

Dean looked away from Sam, and Delilah lowered her eyes when he looked at her a split second.  Now what?  More self-righteous bullshit?  She continued to stare at the ground, the building, the cedar hedge beside her, anything to distract her from what was being said.  But she found herself listening anyways.

Dean spoke, “I was messed up man.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, “Kevin was dead and I…  I don’t know what I was.”

Delilah looked around again, trying to gauge Sam’s reaction to Dean expressing himself, sort of.  He was still frowning, but was nodding his head slightly.

Dean went on, “Hell, maybe I _still_ don’t.  But uh… I know I took a piece of you in the process, both of you,” he glanced up at Delilah again, “and for that…” he trailed off, but looked at each of them, an imploring look in his eyes.  The man was in pain, clearly.  He kept eye contact with Sam, waiting, but he didn’t say anything, just kept staring back.  Dean was getting flustered, gesturing with his hands, “Somebody changed the playbook, man, you know?  It’s like what… what’s right is wrong and what’s wrong is… more wrong, and…” He stopped himself, sticking his hands back in his coat pockets and avoiding eye contact again.  “I just know that when… when we rode together…”

“We split the crappiness,” Sam finished for him.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed softly.

The brothers stood, avoiding each other’s eyes, in an awkward dance of nonverbal communication, Dean looking completely vulnerable as Sam pondered what to do or say.  Delilah watched them, unsure herself how she felt about Dean’s half assed apology.  Sam nodded and looked up, “Okay.”

Dean looked at him, “Okay.”

Delilah felt both relieved and uncertain, what did that mean?  Was Dean coming back to the bunker? Were Sam and Dean going back to hunting? Would she be shunted aside again?  Dealing with Dean abandoning her, fine, been there done that, but she didn’t think she could handle Sam doing it too.  Maybe she should just cut and run.

“But something’s broken, Dean,” Sam said, snapping her attention back to them.

“I’m not saying that it’s not.  I…,” his voice was rough again.  He paused, and when he started again it was back to normal.  He was almost nonchalant when he added, “I just think we need to put a couple W’s on the board and we get past all this.”

“I don’t think so.”  Sam’s words surprised Delilah, was Dean forgiven or not? “No, I-I wish, but…. We don’t… see things the same way anymore.  Our roles in this whole thing.”  Dean was frowning, looking like he wanted to say something, but holding back.  Delilah straightened up, turning to face them directly, shocked by Sam’s words.  This was not the impression that she got from him when they talked about his brother before.  Sam kept explaining, “Back in that church, talking me out of boarding up Hell?  Or-or tricking me into letting Gadreel possess me?  I can’t trust you, not the way I thought I could.  Not the way I should be able to.”  Had he been agitated or yelling, Delilah would’ve thought it was the anger talking, but Sam was calm as the words came out of his mouth, tearing Dean apart bit by bit.  Delilah didn’t know who she should be sympathetic to.

“Ok look,” Dean tried to reason, “Whatever happened…  We’re _family_ , okay?”

Sam chuckled, sneering, “You say that like it’s some sort of cure-all, like it can change the fact that _everything_ that has _ever_ gone wrong between us, has been _because_ we’re family.”

“So what? We’re not family now?” Dean said upset.

“I’m saying you wanna work? Let’s work.” Sam paused, still cool and logical, “If you want to be brothers…” he let it hang between them, Dean looking stunned.  “Well, those are my terms.”

How much of this was her fault?  How much did she truly not understand about Sam?  Could his brother’s past betrayals truly have turned him so cold?  Hadn’t Dean told her that Sam had more reasons than anybody to hate him?  She had comforted Dean, telling him his brother loved him… was she that wrong?  And there was a little niggly voice at the back of her mind whispering that maybe Sam didn’t like what Dean had done to her…  But no, that wasn’t enough to get between the brothers, she hoped.

Dean didn’t say a word.  He nodded his head slowly, a mask of indifference on his face.  He had gone into self-preservation mode, no longer exhibiting outward signs of his distress.  Delilah walked over to them.  Sam looked at her and she could see that his eyes were as cold and indifferent as his voice.  It gave her chills.  Sam walked to the back of the Dart and opened the trunk, getting their bags.  “Leave mine Sam.” He hesitated, but let the handle of her travel bag go and closed the trunk.  He walked over to the Impala and tossed his into the back seat, then he dropped into the passenger seat, waiting.

Dean cleared his throat to get her attention.  She turned to look at him. “What about you?” he asked her.

“What about me, Dean?” she said, trying not to sound hostile and failing, miserably.

He sighed, looking like he was hanging on by a thread, “Are you coming too?”

She turned to face him head on, looking into his eyes, trying to understand him, she frowned in confusion.  “Do you want me to come?”

He shuffled his feet, looking up, his mouth open in a sigh of exasperation.  The guy looked like she had just asked him to spell Albuquerque.  When he finally looked at her again, he was in pain.  He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it.  When he tried again, she started walking away towards Sam, who was waiting, sitting in the Impala.  Dean followed her with his eyes.  She leaned in the window holding her hand out to him.

“I’ll have the keys.”

“Please, don’t leave Delilah,” he was breathing quickly and pursing his lips, maybe he was more upset than he was letting on.

She kept her hand out, “Keys.” Sam sighed and pulled the Dart’s key off his keychain, putting it in her hand.  She looked at him a few seconds, still leaning on the car, then she glanced towards Dean, still standing between the two muscle cars, looking lost.  She closed her hand around the key and straightened up.  She tapped the door frame and Sam looked at her.  “Relax kid, I’ll take good care of her on the way home,” she told him, only loud enough so he could hear.

Sam’s lips curled slightly, “Who’re you calling kid?  You’re like three months older than me.”

She winked at him and walked away heading for the blue Dart Demon.  Delilah decided to name it the Blue Devil, ha!  She walked right past Dean, not looking at him and she climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusting it for her non freakishly long legs.  She turned the key and looked up, seeing that Dean was still standing looking at her.  She was really tempted to leave it like that, but charity got the better of her as she pulled around him and the Impala.  She cranked down her window and called out loud enough for him to hear her, “See you back home, Baby.” And then she blew the black car a kiss before continuing out of the parking lot and onto the road.

⭐

 

_That's why I'm lonely_

_I'm so lonely_

_But I know what I'm gonna do -_

_I'm gonna ride on Ride on_

_Ride on, standing on the edge of the roads_

_Ride on, thumb in the air_

_Ride on, one of these days I'm gonna_

_Ride on, change my evil ways_

_Till then I'll just keep riding on_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! I hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry things seem so bleak between Dean and Delilah, but let's face it... it's not like Dean is the best at relationships in general. Hopefully in the next one they find a good balance.


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